


The Orphaned Soul

by PTDean



Series: Escribamens [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood Magic, Cute Kids, Dark Magic, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Secrets, Gen, Genderqueer Character, Good Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts, Horcruxes, Humbled!Lucius, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Magic Revealed, Magical technology, More Horrifying Acronyms, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Parseltongue, Post Mpreg, Powerful Harry, Pureblood Culture, Rituals, Soul Bond, Teacher!Harry, Twins, magical theory, teacher!Draco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 19:47:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PTDean/pseuds/PTDean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Sequel to Escribamens. Generations fic. Established HP/DM. After the Dark Lord was vanquished, Harry was left to live happily ever with the perfect spouse and two, soon to be three perfect sons. But there was one Horcrux that even the Dark Lord was unaware of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> _  
>  **Author's Note**   
>  _
> 
>  
> 
> _This story is a sequel. You're going to be very lost if you don't read Escribamens first._
> 
>  
> 
> _Also, this story is set in the AU created by Escribamens, where Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter are bonded. MPreg (past) is implied._
> 
>  
> 
> _That said, I hope everyone enjoys this, and please write me comments in the review section!_  
> 

**Prologue**

The young boy shivered fearfully, his eyes darting nervously around the empty train station. 

Something had moved. After so long, something had moved.

“Hello?”

His voice was scratchy from disuse. How long had he been here? Weeks? Months? Time didn’t seem to mean much in this cold, empty place.

A whistle of wind from the dark tunnel slices through the enclosed area, causing bits of paper to whirl aimlessly for a moment.

He stands on shaky feet, abandoning the child’s blanket he’d been huddling under for warmth.

“Is someone there?”

Nothing. 

Was it his imagination? The hope that had sprung up started to fade. 

Of course it was his imagination. There was never anyone here. Only the wind whistling through the tunnels.

He starts to lower himself back to the cold stone floor, furiously blinking back the tears.

Someone had to come eventually. They would. If he was good, if he scrubbed his face, if he smiled big and bright when they came, someone would be here for him and take him away. He’d been waiting before he arrived here, he’d continue to wait here.

But here, nobody came. 

Not for him. Not at all. Smiling didn’t do much good when there was nobody there.

No. Don’t think that. Someone would come.

There was another rustling noise. More wind?

But there was no wind.

A scuffling sound…a…a foot on the pavement?

The boy struggled to his feet again.

“Hello?”

The sound stopped.

“Please, is someone here?”

The desperation in his voice echoed back at him. 

He stopped short.

Must not let himself sound so desperate. Nobody wanted a sad child.

“We can be friends if you come out!”

He tinged his voice with a cheerful challenge.

There was another scuffling. There. Behind that pillar.

The wind started howling in the tunnels again, this time with rising thunder.

The boy cowered back for a moment. There had never been thunder in the tunnels before.

But there had never been another person there either. He couldn’t hear now, the wind and the thunder too loud, but he thought he knew where his new friend was hiding.

“I won’t hurt you, if you’ll be my friend, I’ll help you.” He shouted into the wind, edging closer to the pillar.

There was no response.

The boy took a deep breath. There was one thing, one wonderful amazing thing that would certainly get the other’s interest.

But the funny old man had told him never to tell the others.

He bit his tongue, indecisive.

The thunder grew louder, rhythmic, powerful. He dashed for the pillar, putting his back to it, knowing the other person was just on the other side. He made his decision.

“If you’ll be my friend…I…I’ll show you my magic!” He promised into the darkness.

He edged his way along the pillar carefully. He didn’t want to scare his new friend away.

“I’ll protect you.” He boasted, sliding around the corner.

Only to stare at the bundle lying there.

The infant looked up at him with vivid green eyes.

The boy collapsed to his knees before the bundle, crawling forward to crane down at the baby.

“You got stuck here too, huh? Guess nobody wanted you either.”

The baby burbled up at him. It had a shock of bright blonde hair on its head.

“I guess you’re too little to be my new friend.” The boy said, but was oddly not so disappointed.

Carefully, he snaked his arms around the fragile bundle, lifting it up and cradling it gently against his own thin chest.

“But…you could be my little brother.”

The infant blew a raspberry.

The boy smiled, the gentle expression crossing his hunted features with difficulty.

“We’ll be our own family.” He whispered.

He looked up, noticing the silence for the first time.

There, on the tracks, a long train stood, its massive body crowding the familiar space of the platform.

The boy looked down at the child in his arms, then at the train. His arms tightened protectively around the baby as he scrutinized the bright red invader.

Finally, with a small nod, the boy made his way over to the hulking vehicle.

This was no place for a baby. Wherever the train would go, perhaps there would at least be food there.

With that decision made, the boy carefully climbed the narrow stairs that led up into the strange beast, his wand clutched carefully beneath the small squirming bundle.

Whatever the future brought, he had made his own family, and with his magic, he’d protect it.


	2. The Guardian

James Remus Potter-Malfoy peeked around the corner, his balled fist held up next to his shoulder in a signal he’d learned from his godmother’s television.

Clear.

Two little fingers popped up from his fist and waved crisply down the hallway.

His twin Regulus Sirius leapt into action, sliding noiselessly past James and down the darkened corridor, padded feet sliding gently on the polished wood floor. In seconds, Regulus arrived at THE corner, the one that overlooked the DOOR.

James watched as his brother flattened himself against the wall and…ever so carefully, edged his head outward for a look.

Regulus looked up and met James’ eyes, beckoned.  
In under a second, James was by his side, watching the door. The soft glow under the crack was false moonlight – real enough to give the room beyond a soothing nocturnal illumination but not real enough to give his namesake any trouble.

Carefully, the twins crept forward and flattened themselves on either side of the door, conferring in harsh whispers.

“I’m telling you, one of them will be guarding inside.” Regulus hissed.

“No they won’t, the Healer said Papa fainted when the baby was born and will need his rest, and Daddy looked really tired too.”

Regulus nodded at that. So the nursery would be unguarded.   
Well. Time to see this long-awaited little brother.

Regulus tested the knob, and it turned easily. Together they slowly pushed the door open.

The nursery was awash in midnight blues and liquid silver. 

The moon shone down benignly from a ceiling enchanted to show a starry night sky. In the center of the room, the bassinet was a gleaming white under the soft moonlight.

The two boys held their breath as they inched forward towards the cradle.

Inside, a squirming bundle, its face turned away.

“I can’t see him,” James whispered in disappointment.

“We’ll go around the other side.” Regulus suggested.

The twins maneuvered around to the other side and looked again, taking in the scrunched up face and the shock of white hair.

“Doesn’t look like much, he’s all wrinkly.” James commented.

“He’s got Papa’s hair.” Regulus observed.

James leaned in.

“Hi little Scorpius, I’m James.”

“And I’m Regulus.”

“We’re you’re big brothers.”

Both looked up as something shifted in the room. They looked around, fearful they had been caught.

“What was it?”

“I don’t see anything.”

“I told you we’re gonna get caught!”

“Nobody’s here, let’s just give it to him already!”

James pulled out the small stuffed dragon and presented it to the infant.

“This is Puff, he’s a dragon like Papa.” He informed the child importantly.

He stopped, frowning.

“He’s not even awake.”

“So?”

“He should at least know his name if he’s going to adopt him.”

“He can’t even talk yet, we can tell him his name later.” Regulus urged.

“But he won’t even know where he came from, aren’t we here so he’ll know us, too?”

“We’re his brothers, of course he’ll know us!”

“But he won’t know we gave him Puff if he’s asleep!”

“Fine, maybe we can wake him up, then.”

“No, you will NOT!” a third voice interjected sternly.

The two looked up guiltily, and found a boy their own age standing on the other side of the cradle, wand raised threateningly.

“Who are you?” the twins gaped.

“Who are _you_? And what are you doing in here?” the boy demanded.

“I’m James and he’s Regulus, we’re visiting our brother. Who are you?”

The boy frowned.

“You’re not his brother. I am.”

James gasped.

“You take that back! He’s our brother, Papa and Daddy said so!”

“I’m his adopted brother. He chose me to take care of him.”

“He can’t choose you! He’s just a baby!” Regulus objected.

“You can’t adopt him away from us!”

The boy frowned, raising his wand again, an invisible force pushing the two back from the cradle a couple steps.

“He’s mine, I found him first! You’re not going to take him away from me!” He growled, walking around the bassinet and placing himself between them and the sleeping infant.

“We- we aren’t taking him, we’re giving him Puff!” James said, his voice rising with indignation.

The boy considered this, then a small pleased quirked at his lips.

“Fine. Leave your gift and be gone.”

“But he has to know his _name_!” Regulus argued.

“Puff. I’ll inform him.” The boy said curtly.

“And he has to know _our_ names!” James added.

“Regulus. James. I’m sure he’ll appreciate your gift. Now get out of here before-“

The boy was interrupted by a cry from the infant behind him.  
In an instant the wand disappeared, and the strange boy whirled around to console the baby.

Regulus and James took the opportunity to crowd closer to the bassinet, catching a glimpse of bright green eyes.

“He has eyes like Daddy!” James crowed.

The boy whirled back to face him, dark eyes blazing, the wand magically reappearing in the hand that wasn’t busy caressing the baby’s soft white hair.

“You idiots woke him up! Now you’ll get it!” he hissed.

The twins found themselves thrown backwards again, and recovering themselves, immediately split to opposite sides of the room to divide the boy’s attention.

The infant Scorpius howled his anger at the situation in general, and the strange boy looked oddly conflicted between dealing with the intruders and comforting the child.

His conflict was solved when the door to the nursery suddenly opened, a bleary-eyed Draco Malfoy stumbling inside.

He stopped short, seeing the two twins crouched on opposite ends of the room.

“James. Regulus.” He began, stopping as Scorpius expressed his anger at being ignored.

He sighed, and stepped up to the cradle and lifted his son into his arms. The wails subsided into gentler sobs. He turned back to his two eldest.

“Why are you out of your beds at this hour?”

“We came to give him Puff!” James announced.

“But then _he_ attacked us!” Regulus added, pointing at where their assailant had been standing.”

“He _who_?” Draco asked, eyebrow raised skeptically.

The twins looked at where the other boy had been, jaws dropping as they found he’d disappeared.

“He…he was _there_! Right there!” James sputtered.

“Who?”

“Another boy! This tall, black hair, he had a wand and said he’d adopted Scorp as his brother and we couldn’t be his brothers anymore!”

Draco raised another eyebrow.

“ _Scorp_?”

The twins shrugged.

Draco eyed them warily for a moment.

“Well. Regulus, James, perhaps we could have involved you more in the birthing process. I suppose it’s not every day another heir is added to the family. But to break into the nursery in the dead of night, and upset one of the family ghosts-”

“It wasn’t one of the ghosts!” James insisted. “He was our age, and he used magic!”

Draco sighed tiredly.

“What spell?”

James and Regulus paused.

“He didn’t use a spell, he just sort of pushed us around with magic, without saying anything.”

Draco eyed them skeptically.

“Really.”

“Draco?” Came a tired voice from the doorway.

Harry Potter looked terrible. Dark lines under his eyes, his face was pale, his adam’s apple bobbed as his eyes slowly focused on the two intruders.

“Boys. Come to meet your new brother?” he said, his voice warm despite his clear exhaustion.

“Harry, you should be sleeping.” Draco fussed.

“You weren’t in the bed.” Harry moved forward, putting a hand each on Regulus’ and James’ shoulders as he drew them towards where his husband held the infant.

“Regulus, James, I’d like to introduce you to your brother Scorpius Hyperion Potter-Malfoy.” Mysterious stranger forgotten, the two boys peered down at the infant, which regarded them with little interest.

“Harry, it’s the middle of the night.”

“I know, it’s our fault for not letting them see him sooner.” Harry said.

Draco nodded, with one of those _looks_ that said they’d be discussing this later. Papa never liked it when Harry admitted they’d made a mistake in front of Regulus and James.

“Harry, they claim there was an intruder.”

James’ head rose at that.

“Yeah, there was a boy like us, he said he’d adopted Scorp and wouldn’t let us see him.”

“It wasn’t a ghost. He used magic.” Regulus added.

Harry looked at Draco quizzically.

Draco sighed, and closed his eyes, opening them a moment later with an odd expression.

“The wards _do_ show magical activity in here over the last ten minutes. I don’t recognize the signature, it’s similar to Scorpius’ aura but I don’t think it’s his. And it shows hallmarks of accidental magic but it was focused with a wand…”

Harry looked at his sons.

“Anything more you can tell us about this person? Did he give his name?”

“No…he was just some boy, he said Scorp chose him to take care of him so he was his adopted brother. He got really mad when we woke him up arguing.”

“Harry.” Draco choked out, his eyes shut tight.

Harry looked expectantly at his husband, who looked faint.

“Harry…the magical traces...it was channeled through a phoenix tail core. And…yew.”

Harry looked alarmed, then reached out to steady his husband with a hand on each shoulder.

“Stay calm, dear. Don’t jump to conclusions yet. This boy doesn’t seem to behave anything like _him_. There are a lot of wands out there, especially going back into the past. We’ll find out what this is, and we’ll deal with it if it’s a threat, okay?”

“Yes.” Draco said quietly.

“Boys, go to bed. We’ll discuss this more in the morning.”

The twins, shaken at seeing their father so afraid, instantly disappeared to their rooms.

“Flopsy.”

The house elf appeared with a pop.

“What is the Master Harry wanting from Flopsy?”

“Move the bassinet into our bedroom, please. Right next to our bed.”

The elf, and the cradle, disappeared.

“Come, we’ll watch over him and get some sleep tonight.   
Tomorrow, we’ll start making Floo calls.” 

Harry guided his husband, the baby still in his arms, out of the nursery into the hallway.

Behind them, the strange boy reappeared, studying the door where they’d exited thoughtfully a moment before vanishing once again.


	3. Revelations

“Are you concentrating, son?” Harry asked patiently.

James squirmed under his father’s gaze, but nodded.

His father’s wand touched his temple gently, and James closed his eyes against the odd _unwinding_ in his head as the memory was drawn from his mind.

James opened his eyes in time to see the silvery strand dropping down into the ghostly depths of the Penseive.

“That’s it? That’s my memory?” he looked down into the bowl doubtfully.

His dad smiled down at him.

“Right there.”

He stirred it slightly with his wand, then tapped the surface, making ripples spread out from the point. James thought he saw a reflection of the bassinet, glowing in the middle of the nursery. 

Or maybe it was his imagination.

“Can we see inside too?” James begged, quickly joined by his brother.

Their dad looked up at their papa.

“What do you think, Draco?”

The twins turned as a unit to beg their other father.

Draco folded his arms, an eyebrow raised skeptically as he inspected them, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“We’ve never used a Penseive before.” Regulus said with a shrewd glance at his brother. 

James caught on immediately, and nodded gravely in agreement.

“We’d learn a lot.” He suggested.

“About a very powerful magical art-a-fact.” Regulus added.

“And responsibility.” James chimed in.

“Because with power and wealth comes responsibility.” They said together.

It was their Daddy’s favorite saying, one that always made their Papa roll his eyes and then smile and usually agree with whatever Daddy was arguing about.

True to form, Draco rolled his eyes at them, then looked at Harry.

“It _is_ their memory. They’ve already seen it.” Harry said.

Then he grinned rakishly.

“And who are we to pass up an opportunity to teach them to be _responsible_ with magical artifacts?”

Draco grinned back at his husband, then down at the twins.

“I suppose just this once. But you are _never_ to attempt anything with the Pensieve without one of us there to guide you. Understand?”

The twins eagerly chimed agreement, of course. They’d figure out the loopholes in that promise later.

Draco nodded seriously, but Harry was squinting at them suspiciously.

“Alright dear?”

Harry nodded, but still watched the twins. They squirmed nervously under their gaze. Somehow, their Daddy seemed to see right through most of their schemes.

Finally, Harry looked up at his husband.

“Let’s go.”

Their fathers guided the boys to stand between them before the great stone bowl.

“Your father is going to prime the memory for us, and then we will all dip our faces into the bowl.” Draco coached them.

Harry stroked the surface of the liquid with his wand – tap, tap, tap. He turned to look at the boys.

“Try not to land on your little bums.” He winked.

Then the two adults each put a hand on a twin’s head, and together, they leaned into the bowl.

_With a rush of color and sound they were falling, falling, falling, until suddenly they landed in the hallway outside the baby’s room._

_Regulus stared as another version of himself, dressed in Snitch pajamas, stealthily approached the door._

_He gasped as a hand grasped his shoulder and he found himself looking up at Draco, who was staring at the other_

_Regulus with a disapproving frown._

_The door opened, and the four of them followed the memory-twins into the nursery._

_“I can’t see him!”_

_“We’ll go around to the other side.”_

_“Doesn’t look like much, he’s all wrinkly.”_

_“He’s got Papa’s hair.”_

_The twins eyes bounced between their memory-selves as they chattered._

_“This is what it’s like inside a memory.” Harry said in his teaching voice. “You’ll see details your eyes saw, but that your mind didn’t notice the first time. Very useful for going back and figuring out what really happened.”_

_““Hi little Scorpius, I’m James.”_

_“And I’m Regulus.”_

_“We’re you’re big brothers.”_

_“Cessare.” Draco said._

_The memory-twins froze._

_“Did you see something?” Harry asked._

_“I’m not sure. Something in the room changed.” Draco said._

_“We felt it too.” Regulus added._

_Draco nodded._

_“Resume.”_

_The memory-twins acted startled and looked around, then resumed their conversation._

_Draco walked over to the other side of the bassinet._

_“There. Look.”_

_He pointed under the bassinet. A faint, misty shape was slowly taking form as the memory-twins bickered._

_“Is that your mystery boy?” Harry asked._

_The boys looked and shook there heads._

_“He wasn’t all glowy and faint like that.”_

_“You didn’t really see him at that point, this is the most your perceptions could capture at the time.” Draco concluded. “Let’s watch.”_

_“Maybe we can wake him up, then.”_

_Suddenly he was there, the same boy. Harry gave a soft gasp._

_“No you will not!”_

_“That’s…that’s Riddle!”_

__

With a swirl and a shout they were all spat out onto the carpeted floor of the library.

Harry was shaking as he stood up.

“Are you sure? You only saw him the once, in a memory.” Draco asked cautiously.

“It’s him. But how?”

Draco sighed.

“I was afraid something like this might happen, eventually.”

Harry said nothing, but the look he sent at their Papa was very pointed indeed.

Draco at that moment seemed to notice that the twins were still in the room.

“Regulus, James, your father and I need to speak privately. 

Why don’t you go flying in the garden?”

“But-”

“ _Not_ now, James. Outside.”

The twins were thus summarily ousted from the scene of the action.

Once the door was shut, and a foolproof Muffliato applied to it, Harry rounded on Draco.

“Mind telling me what’s going on?”

Draco shifted uneasily, then sat down carefully.

“I had hoped you wouldn’t ever have to know.”

“Know _what_?”

“Harry, sit down.”

“ _Draco_ ”

“Harry, please. Sit.”

Harry threw himself into the high-backed seat across from his husband and glared at him.

“Harry. You _know_ there are things I still can’t speak of. Not even to you. Not because I wouldn’t want to but because they aren’t my secrets to tell.”

“And a ghost of fucking _Voldemort_ attaching himself to our _son_ is one of them?” Harry shot back.

“Not the Dark Lord.” Draco corrected. “He truly is vanquished. But, Harry, there’s something Dumbledore never told you about him. About his Horcruxes.”

Harry just stared expectantly.

“Harry. There were more than six Horcruxes.”

Harry paled, standing sharply to his feet.

“Sit down, Harry. The last Horcrux was not something that we could destroy. At least, not without breaking the prophecy.”

Harry sat down slowly.

“I don’t…I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me there was a seventh Horcrux if you knew? Why didn’t Dumbledore?”

“Because it’s you.”

Harry just stared blankly at him for a moment before horrified comprehension dawned across his face.

“No.”

“It wasn’t a proper one, your mother’s magic interfered and temporarily vanquished the Dark Lord before the ceremony was completed. Which left it, and the Dark Lord, vulnerable to Love Magic.”

“The battlefield marriage.” Harry said numbly.

Draco crossed over to his husband and knelt next to him, taking his hand.

“I couldn’t actually destroy it like the others. Not without…destroying _you_. But the magic of our bonding purged it of everything unclean and Dark. Everything that was anathema to the Love magic. I…I thought that would effectively destroy it, entirely. It’s a Horcrux, after all. But…apparently…. some part of him wasn’t inherently evil.”

“He…he was a child. Just Regulus and James’ age.” Harry said quietly.

“Hogwarts age.” Draco agreed.

They were silent for a long time.

“Maybe…maybe he didn’t have to become Voldemort, then. If Riddle…if Tom had had a family…” he stopped.

Draco squeezed his hand, knowing how this particular question stirred his husband’s own childhood demons. 

Then he took his husband’s face in his hands and whispered to him fiercely.

“And something may have happened at Hogwarts, as well. _You_ are not a monster, Harry. You made your choice. You made your Vow, and you’ll never go down that road.”

Harry stared at him, then smiled weakly.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Draco leaned back, stood up, and smirked down at him.

“You were just in the right place at the right time to help me help you save the world, my dear Gryffindor.”

Harry scowled at the jibe, then chuckled as he stood to embrace his husband.

“Yeah, well you tricked me into it.”

They stood in each others arms for a moment.

“So. What do you think we should do?” Draco asked.

“I think…I think we should talk to him.”

 

 

Tom wasn’t sure what to think of it. Apparently his new little brother, ‘Scorpius’, already had a family in place. They were clearly wizards, and that was quite literal – somehow _both_ parents were wizards. 

Tom had studied them while they slept to be sure. 

Both men. 

And Scorpius had the features of each.

This beat the miracle of Diagon Alley hands down.

But what to do about it? The parents clearly hadn’t been thrilled to learn of their son’s protector. The two little thugs who’d woken the child had been downright hostile, in fact.

Tom wasn’t about to let his new family go without a fight.

Even if Scorpius wasn’t, technically, his. Tom decided he was far too attached to the squirmy bundle to allow some fruity blood-relatives take him away, wizards or no.

That decided, Tom turned his attention to the tyke in question.

Scorpius was crying.

Loudly.

Tom leaned over him and offered a finger.

“What’s wrong, little brother?”

A flailing fist caught his finger and grasped it.

In a moment, Tom realized his brother must be hungry.

What was the name of that creature who had appeared at the parent’s command?

“Flopsy!” Tom called out imperiously.

The deformed creature popped into existence, bowing obsequiously.

“What can Flopsy be doing for Master Scorpius?”

“He is hungry. Bring a bottle of milk immediately.” Tom demanded.

In seconds, Tom was staring into hypnotic green eyes as he fed his little brother for the first time.

In minutes, Tom realized he would do anything, kill anything, to protect Scorpius.

Shortly thereafter, that whispered promise had its opportunity.

“Issss the nessssstling dreaming?” A whispery voice inquired.

“Can we sssssspeak to the Other now?” A second added.

“Thissss ssssspeaking issssss foolisssshnessss, the other issss an intruder and ssssshould die!” Snapped a third voice.

“Who is that!” Tom called out sharply, reaching for his wand.

“It ssssspeaksssss!” The three voices hissed in surprise.

Tom stood up, wand brandished.

“Show yourselves!”

Tom watched in fascination as the multiple coils of a three-headed snake wound its way out from under a bureau.

“What…what are you?” he asked

“The humansssssssss call ussssssss Runesssspoor. Our Masssster callssss usssss Hissssssyfit.” The Planner announced.

“Your Master?”

“The one called Jamessssss, foolisssssh one-head. Who else could it be?” The Critic snapped.

“He chartsssss the deepesssssst dreamsssss.” The Dreamer sighed, rather longingly.

Tom considered this. So the creature was a magical type of snake. Which explained why he could speak to it. And a familiar to one of the two thugs who’d claimed to be brothers to Scorpius.

“What is a familiar of James doing here?” he asked.

“Masssster assssked us to invessssstigate the Other.” The Planner said.

“Masssster wissshed to know the words the fatherssss sssspoke in sssssecret.” The Dreamer added.

“And whether the Other issss a threat to the one called Ssssscorpiussss.” The Critic said, eyeing Tom sharply.

“A threat? To Scorpius? Me? Is your master mad? _He’s_ the one who woke him up in the middle of the night!” Tom said scornfully.

“Masssster Jamessss would _never_ interrupt the flow of dreams!” the Dreamer retorted, shocked.

“Unlesss there wassss need to.” The Planner amended.

“What need? _What_ need? There isss never ssssuch need! Our Massster Jamesssss hasssss long appreciated the sssssoothing sssssweetnesssss of ssssslumber! I demand thissss Other retract his vile accusssssationssss immediately!” the Dreamer hissed sharply.

“You _and_ Massssster Jamessss are far too enamored of thisssss usssselessss activity for my preference, Dreamer.” The Critic chimed in. 

“Ssssso many timessss, sssso many plansssss curtailed by punissssshments for his ssssloth.” The Planner mourned. “And yet, in thessssse dreamssss, ssssso many delightful ssssseeds of ssssuch delightful ssssschemes. It issss not ussseless, but moderation isss wisssse.”

“Moderation? How dare thissss misssserable worm sssspeak of moderation? Of ssssleep!” the Dreamer sputtered incoherently with rage.

“You foolsssss, hissssing about nonssssenssse when we have a missssion to perform. Alwaysssss the endlesssss debate, never a ressssst, never a moment’sssss peace for your idiocy!” the Critic whined.

“Excuse me? Maybe I can help.” Tom interjected politely.

“Do your worsssst, one-head.” The Critic spat.

“It sounds like all of you are correct, in different ways.” Tom suggested.

“Yessss? And how can this be, when we disssaagree?”

“Well, _you_ are very right that dreaming and sleep is important and shouldn’t be interrupted. If I never got any sleep, I’m sure I’d go quite mad.” Tom said to the Dreamer.

The Dreamer writhed and raised itself up over its fellows, hissing in smug delight.

“Ssssee? Thissss I have told you again and again! And even Jamessss has ssssaid it many timessss, but issss only punissssshed!”

The other heads hissed and muttered in angry disagreement.

Tom quickly turned to the Critic.

“But you are quite right too, because sleep by itself is useless. There would be no dreams at all if we didn’t spend time awake to see new things and think new thoughts. If we only slept all the time, we would not be dreaming, but _dead_! And that’s no fun at all!”

The Critic coiled itself to the side and smirked at the others, delighted at the praise.

The Dreamer seemed grudgingly content with this explanation, but the Planner snarled at them both.

Tom turned to him last.

“So, in order to enjoy sleep and dreams, and to still be alive, it is best to practice both with moderation, so that the dreams can grow from things seen while awake, and the best adventures are inspired in the world of dreams!”

The Planner hissed thoughtfully at this bit of philosophy, then nodded its agreement.

“You are wisssse for one with your ssssad misfortune of being born with only a ssssingle head. Much like the Masssster Jamessss and hissss nestling. Perhapssss between the three of you, a proper ssssnake could be made.”

“Thank you, but I’ve already found my brother. As long as those others don’t disturb his rest, I want nothing to do with them.” Tom said politely.

The Critic sniffed with disdain.

“It wasssss a foolisssh plan, to ssssneak into the nursssery during ssssssleeping time.”

The Dreamer hissed in agreement, and the Planner was forced to concede the point.

“If we carry thissss condition to Masssster Jamesss, and he agreessss to abide by it, will you permit him to vissssit his nesssstmate without interference?”

Tom thought carefully.

“If he behaves himself. And controls the other one.”

“Massster Jamesss and his nessstmate Regulussss are like two ssssnakesss with only one head.” The Dreamer said.

“Sssso, let ussss be off to carry your offer to our Masssster.” The Planner announced bossily.

“Wait, what about your other mission?”

“What issss thisss you speak of?”

“You spoke of secrets.”

“Yessss, we have dissscovered the ssssecret wordssss of the fathersss already.” The Dreamer said.

“Sssssecretsss that concern _you_ , Tom Riddle.” The Critic added.

“What? What secrets about me? I helped you solve your riddle, surely you can grant me this small favor?” Tom asked.

The three heads conferred for a moment.

“The fathers ssssspoke of a powerful evil wizard.” The Dreamer mused.

“One we have heard of before, a grave threat to the fatherssss when they were nessssstlingsssss.” The Planner said.

“Thissss wizard had many headssss, each had to be destroyed to ssssstop him.” The Planner said.

“But one of thessse headsssss wassss shared by the father called Harry.” The Critic said.

“Ssssso the father called Draco worked a great magic to take the venom from that head’s fangsssss, and believed that head was destroyed by doing thisssss.” The Dreamer said.

“And then they dessssstroyed the other headssssss.”

“But now that the father called Harry hasssss given birth, they believe that the unpoisoned head has returned. Tom Riddle.”

“They think _I’m_ the…unpoisoned head?” Tom asked slowly.

“Yessssss.”

“But I’m not a part of some evil wizard! I’m just a kid! I just found out I was a wizard today!” Tom protested. 

This whole evil wizard business was a complete crock, he’d never done anything evil in his life. 

Well, he _had_ done all sorts of evil things…to the other kids and even some adults at the orphanage, but those weren’t wizard evil things, just normal kid pranks.

Tom felt upset that someone had apparently been spreading rumors about him being an evil dark wizard, and now the fathers of his new brother believed the lies and would surely try to take Scorpius away from him.

“Thisss issss what they believe. Your wand issss the wand of the evil wizard.”

“He must have had it before me! I just got this wand!” Tom’s voice was rising with hysteria.

“And the father called Harry ssssaw you, and ssssayssss you look like a memory of the evil wizard when he was in an orphanage at your age.”

“That’s not true! I’m not an evil wizard! I’m not!” Tom shouted.

“What’s going on in here?” The door swung open and there, at the threshold, stood Harry Potter, wand in hand, with Draco Malfoy ready for battle at his side.


	4. Confrontations and Collaborations

Harry and Draco hurried into their bedroom, where shouting could be heard through the paneled door.

“What’s going on in here!?” Harry demanded as the door swung open at a wave from his wand. They skidded to a halt as they took in the tableau.

Inside, a very panicked, very young Tom Riddle stood feeding their son from a bottle while arguing furiously with James’ Runespoor.

“Tom. Hissy-fit. Care to explain what you’re arguing so loudly about?” Harry asked coolly in Parceltongue.

The boy’s eyes widened at being addressed by name, and in the language of snakes, his mouth opening and closing in momentary confusion. 

The Critic answered.

“Thissss Other became upsssset when we told him of hissss originsssss.”

“And how would you know his origins?” Harry demanded sharply.

The snake – all three heads – wriggled guiltily.

“We…accidentally…overheard sssssome detailsssss while we were sssssleeping amongssssst the booksssss.” The Dreamer admitted.

“You were spying at James’ behest, then.” Harry surmised.

The creature squirmed, but didn’t deny it.

Draco raised a quizzical eyebrow at his husband. Harry quickly translated.

The two wizards turned to Tom. The boy held Scorpius protectively, a wand held in a shaking fist, as if to ward them off.

“I’m not an evil wizard. I’m _not_. I’ve never hurt anybody!” Tom said insistently.

“We know, Tom.”

“I’m _not_!”

“Tom. We know.”

The boy blinked.

“But…the Runespoor said…”

“I’m sure Hissy-fit gave you the limited account they could understand.” Draco said coolly, eyeing the creature disapprovingly. “Which is why they should have left such an explanation to wizards.”

The Runespoor, perceiving an insult, hissed their displeasure and started slithering their way out of the bedroom.

Harry sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, conjuring a comfortable rocking-chair for Tom to sit on across from them.

“Have a seat, Tom. There’s a lot you don’t know.”

Tom still cradled the infant possessively.

“Like what?”

“Like, what year it is.”

“Nineteen thirty-seven…” Tom said, but his voice wavered with uncertainty.

“Two thousand eight.” Draco informed him calmly.

“That’s…no…that’s impossible.” Tom quavered, clutching the infant closer.

“Tom, you are…what is left of a very old, powerful, evil wizard.” Harry said carefully.

“I’m _not_ evil.” Tom muttered rebelliously.

“No, you’re not.” Harry said firmly.

For the first time, the boy looked up and met his eyes directly.

“I…I thought you said I was-”

Harry sighed and motioned to Draco, who told the boy the tale of the man another Tom Riddle had become, the Horcruxes, the night Harry’s parents had died, the destruction of the Horcruxes and their battlefield marriage.

“We thought we had destroyed him entirely. The Dark Lord was conceived out of rape, and later embraced the hatred that act founded. He could not co-exist with love, and was destroyed by that brand of magic.” Draco finished.

“But…you say I am him?”

“The fact that you exist proves there was once something good about Tom Riddle…at one point he was capable of love. That part survived. And that part is who you are, Tom.” Harry said gently.

Tom looked down at Scorpius, who was now sound asleep in his arms. He felt his face melt into softness at the sight of the sleeping infant.

Yes. He could love.

“But…what am I? A…a ghost?”

“We don’t know, exactly. But we’re fortunate to have allies who can help us find out.” Draco said.

“What’s to become of me?”

“I’ll be honest, Tom. I don’t know. The other Horcrux that manifested like you, did so by sucking the life out of my friend Ginny. I don’t think you want to do that to Scorpius.” Harry said.

Tom stared down at the infant in horror.

“No! I…I’d never! I’d _die_ first!”

“I didn’t think you would. You’re a very different person than that Tom Riddle.” Harry agreed.

“We’ll be keeping a close watch on both you _and_ Scorpius.” Draco told him. “We know you aren’t evil, but we won’t risk the life of our son. If your existence itself is a threat to him, I will do what is necessary.”

Tom actually relaxed as he looked up into Draco’s cold eyes.

“So I _would_ die first.”

The former Slytherin just nodded in answer.

“How are we going to figure out what I am?”

The two men stood up.

“Granger just arrived.” Draco informed his husband in an undertone.

“Granger-Weasley,” Harry corrected his husband automatically.

Draco turned to the boy.

“Have you tested your range yet?” he asked.

“My…my range?”

“Your soul left Harry’s body with Scorpius, you’re probably magically tethered to him. Have you been far from his side?”

“I…no I don’t think so.”

“Why don’t we see how far you can walk?” Draco suggested. “Care to go with us to meet our guests?”

“But…what about Scorpius?” Tom asked, looking conflicted.

“There are plenty of wards to alert us if he needs anything. And the house elves are very capable.” Draco assured him.

Tom looked nervous as he lowered the baby into the bassinet. He stood over the child for a moment, watching him sleep.

“Ready?” Harry intruded on his thoughts.

Tom looked up startled.

“Are you sure he’ll be allright?”

“We’re his parents.” Harry said simply.

Tom couldn’t argue with that. He walked to the threshold where Harry and Draco stood waiting for him. He looked up at the two wizards, shyly.

Harry put a hand on his shoulder, and for a minute Tom felt like a normal boy with real parents.

The feeling passed quickly as they walked down the hall.

What was he thinking? How selfish could he possibly be? 

_Scorpius was alone in there!_ Anything could happen to him while he was away, and Tom wouldn’t even know!

Tom spun out from under Harry’s hand and raced back to the bedroom, fumbling frantically with the doorknob before bursting inside to find the infant still safely asleep.

Tom was breathing hard from his momentary panic.

Scorpius was fine.

Of course.

There were wards. There were house-elves.

Why had he been so afraid?

“I guess we have our answer to that question.” Draco said dryly from the doorway. “I’ll have the house elves bring Granger and the others up here.”

“Tom, why don’t you bring Scorpius over here into this part of the suite, it will be a bit less crowded in the sitting room.” Harry suggested.

Tom picked up the baby and followed Harry into the other room and sat in the rocking chair Harry transfigured for him.

“Come on in Hermione,” Harry called out.

Hermione Granger-Weasley was an attractive, enthusiastic woman in a fashionable power suit and an abundance of long, shiny ringlets of brown hair.

“I came as soon as I got your owl, Draco.” Her sharp eyes took in Tom, softening as she saw the way he shielded Scorpius from view. “It’s like I predicted, then.”

Harry’s head swung up at that.

“ _You_ knew about this? You two talked about it? And never told me?” He sounded wounded.

“Oh _honestly_ Harry, of course we didn’t. You would have obsessed over it, don’t you try to tell me you wouldn’t. Draco took care of things like a reasonable person. You would have been afraid of it and afraid of yourself because that’s always been your impulse.” Hermione said briskly.

She turned to Tom.

“Hi there, you must be the new, improved Thomas Marvolo Riddle. I’m Hermione Granger-Weasley.”

“Hello.” 

Tom gave her a small smile. She was smart, he could already tell. Tom liked smart people.

“Would you mind if I said hello to my godson again? The last time I saw him he was still wet and sticky and not too happy about the fact.” Hermione asked, holding out two very capable-looking hands.

Tom hesitated a moment, then handed the child over willingly.

“I think he’s almost finished with his nap.” He mentioned.

The witch looked at him sharply.

“Why do you think that?” she asked quickly.

Tom shrugged.

“I dunno. He just feels like he’s waking up a bit.”

Hermione looked down at the baby. Sure enough, the tiny face scrunched in a yawn, and then the eyes opened slowly to view the world.

“His eyes are already as green as Harry’s.” Hermione said, surprised. “It took even Regulus a couple days to show silver. You must be very proud.”

“He will be a _very_ powerful heir.” Draco smirked, his head tilted at a smug angle.

Harry swatted his husband on the back of the head as Hermione started cooing and making faces at the infant. Tom watched it all with suspiciously bright eyes.

“Catena animus” a low voice incanted from the doorway

Tom froze as a cage of energy formed around him.

In the doorway was a tall, lanky man with dark greasy hair, wand trained on him and a very dangerous look on his face.

“Severus! What are you doing?” Draco protested.

Severus ignored him.

“Legilmens!”

Tom went rigid as memories assailed him.  
 __

_“I don’t want to go!” Tommy stomped his foot angrily.  
The matron pleaded with him as she tugged his arm. _

_The boy was hiding in the closet. Again. Little Tommy had always hated the lineups. The poor child took it hard every time he wasn’t picked. And he was getting older every day…_

_“Now, Tommy, if you don’t meet people, they’ll never adopt you, will they?”_

_“They’ll never adopt me anyways! They never like me!” The child said petulantly._

_“Well, you never smile. Nobody wants a sad child.”_

_“I smile.” The boy protested._

_“Perhaps you aren’t smiling enough? You should smile bigger this time.” The matron encouraged._

_“I smile!” Tommy insisted. “They never look at me!”_

_“I’ve seen them look at me! They hate me!”_

_It was true. They all looked. But then they all very quickly looked away._

_There was something strange about Thomas Marvolo Riddle._

_Something that scared all the other little boys and girls._

_Something that kept even the matron and other social workers wary around him. Something that made any possible parents avoid his penetrating gaze._

_Strange._

_“Nobody hates you, Tommy.” The matron said carefully._

_“They do! They always hate me! Everybody hates me!” the child burst out._

_“I’m sure that’s not true.”_

_“They think I’m a freak! You know it’s true! Even you’re afraid of me!”_

_“Now Tommy, you know that’s not true-”_

_The child let out a frustrated growl, and the matron staggered as some unseen force seemed to pull and push her at the same time._

_She stumbled back in alarm, hands out to protect herself from the angry boy._

_“Now Tommy,”_

_“See! You’re afraid of me too! Why do you hate me? Why do you all have to hate me? Why do I have to be alone?”_

_“But you’re around children your age every day,” the matron recovered, tentatively scooting closer to the crying boy._

_“I’m alone! I’m all alone! You don’t understand what it’s like!” he sobbed._

_“Of course dear, I know what you mean. But you could make friends. You’re a very clever young man, I know some of the other boys would love to be friends with you if you’d give them a chance.”_

_“They don't like me! They hate me! I hate them! I hate this place! Why couldn’t I just have a mother and a father who loved me! This isn’t fair!” he cried._

_The matron finally took the risk to reach out to the boy and give him an awkward hug. He stiffened in her arms, sensing the gesture was still tinged with a fear of his strange powers._

_“Shhh, some day you will have a family, Tommy. Sometimes it takes a very long time to find the right family for you. You’re special, Tommy. I don’t understand it, and the others don’t either. And it scares us. But somewhere out there is a family that’s just as special as you are. And you should never give up until you’ve found them.”_

_The boy sniffled into her shoulder, then seemed to realize she was still holding him and stepped back stiffly. Still, he’d stopped crying at least._

_“You…you really think there’s a family out there for me? Who won’t care that I’m different?”_

_The matron gave him her patented ‘comforting’ smile._

_“Of course dear. Somewhere out there, there’s someone who’s different, too. And I’m sure they’ll be just as happy to find you as you will be. You’ll just have to find them.”_

_Tommy gave a short, determined nod, his small jaw setting._

_“I’ll find them.”_

_The matron smiled at him, the cheery expression oddly out of context._

_“Well then! You’d best practice your smile! They’re not going to recognize you if you don’t smile!”_

_The boy managed a lopsided grin._

_“That’ll do for now! Now come along, dear. There’s an older person who came and asked specifically for you by name.”_

_“I’m sorry to leave you here, Tom.” Dumbledore said kindly. “But I must be getting to the school. I’ll see you when you arrive there tonight, never worry.”_

_“But what am I supposed to do?”_

_Dumbledore pointed him towards a large pillar on the side of the platform._

_“See that pillar? You’ll need to walk through it. It’s a magical doorway to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. The train to Hogwarts leaves from there in ten minutes.”_

_“Can’t I go with you?”_

_Tom was loathe to let the funny old man out of his sight. He’d learned so much in only the past four hours. A whole group of people just like him, thousands of them, even. A special school with children with powers like he had! He wouldn’t be a freak. He’d found his place at last._

_“What? Twaddle and poppycock! It’s important for a boy in your situation to make friends early, young man. Now go on, get on through so I know you’re safe among other wizards before I leave.”_

_Tom liked how Dumbledore said ‘safe among other wizards’. It made him feel like he was part of something. A community._

_Like he belonged._

_He grasped the handle of his cart and ran, full-tilt through the wall._

_The other side was a bedlam. Wizards, witches, and their children, everywhere._

_Tom looked around frantically. Everyone seemed busy, where were they going, what was he supposed to do next?_

_Dumbledore had said he should make friends, but everyone seemed so busy._

_Tom hesitated a moment, then decided to strike out at random._

_He strode straight forward and tugged on the sleeve of an older boy who looked to know where he was going._

_“Excuse me, where am I supposed to go for Hogwarts?” he asked._

_The boy turned to face him. He was pretty, with long blonde hair that flew into his face._

_“I don’t recognize you. Who are you?”_

_“I’m Tom!”_

_“What family?”_

_“Um…Tom Riddle?”_

_“Riddle.” The boy sneered down at him in disgust. “I suppose that would make you a mud-“_

_An explosion of white light and static cut off the blonde boy’s hateful words as if they’d been erased._

_Suddenly the train station was empty._

_Tom looked around. There was nobody._

_Something had happened. Where did all the witches and wizards and owls and toads and brightly wrapped packages go? What happened to the bright red train?_

_Had the blonde boy done something to him? Something to make him miss the train?_

_Tom didn’t think that boy had liked him, not at all. Something to do with his name._

_Tom shivered, and sat himself down on the cold stone floor._

_He’d have to wait. Dumbledore had said he’d be seeing him tonight. Tom would just have to wait until the old man realized Tom had missed the train._

_Until then…Tom was used to being alone._

_Tom looked down at the infant, enchanted by the beautiful green eyes._

_Too young to be his new friend._

_But he could be his little brother. There was something special in the green eyes. A strange energy. Like the funny old man’s eyes. Like Tom’s eyes._

_Tom always wanted a family._

_None of the adults had ever wanted him. Too old. Too strange._

_But Tom could make his own family. They’d be strange together._

_He gathered the child up in his arms, promising his new brother he’d protect him no matter what.  
_

 

“Finite Incantatem!” Harry countered the magical cage with a flick of his wand.

“Severus! We told you he’s _not_ the Dark Lord!” Draco scolded his godfather, an edge to his voice.

Severus Snape clasped his hands behind his back and stared placidly down his nose at his godson.

“You did. I felt it was wise to be sure.” He sneered, gliding into the room.

Albus Dumbledore followed him in, moving quickly to Tom’s side.

“Tom. Are you okay?” he asked, gently.

The boy had his head in his hands, but looked up at the familiar voice.

“Professor Dumbledore?” he asked, confused.

“The one and only.” The old man’s eyes twinkled maddeningly.

“You’re…old.” Tom said simply.

Dumbledore sighed.

“Indeed, it has been many years since we last met, my boy. From your clothing I would guess, since the day I left you at King’s Cross Station, so many years ago.”

Tom looked up at him uncertainly.

“There was a boy there, he did something to me…everyone disappeared…it was empty, for so long.” He explained haltingly.

“A boy?” Dumbledore frowned.

“Mithras Malfoy.” Snape supplied the name.

Tom frowned at the Potions Master.

“What-“

“Professor Snape is a Legilmens, capable of reading minds.” Professor Dumbledore explained.

“And damned rude about it, too.” Harry put in, sourly.

“Based on your predecessor’s performance, I suspect you may have some natural talent for the art.” Dumbledore continued, ignoring the interruption.

“He read my mind? Those daydreams…that was him reading my mind?” Tom asked, seeming more interested than offended.

“Indeed.”

“That would be useful. Would you teach me, sir?” the boy asked politely.

Snape raised a thoughtful eyebrow at him.

Dumbledore twinkled at the two of them.

“Ever the thirst for knowledge, eh, Tom? I suppose some things will never change! Hopefully this time you’ll bend your considerable talents to better goals, I hope?”

“I…uh…I hope so…yes, sir!” Tom said, blushing.

“If we’re _quite_ through with introductions, could we please get on with the _research_?” Hermione asked, with the longsuffering patience of a very reasonable dog that had been unmercifully teased with a large piece of raw meat for the last sixty seconds.

“Of course, of course. Quite.” Dumbledore agreed, and drawing his wand, passed it several times over Tom’s head, muttering under his breath. The others could hear a few words of these apparently invisible scrying spells, but they sounded suspiciously like ‘fiddlement’ and ‘oddment’ and ‘tweak’.

“Hmmm.” The old man hummed, his eyes twinkling merrily as he replaced his wand in the depths of his robes.

“ _Yes_?” Hermione prompted.

“Hmm? Oh! The boy. Well, I suppose he’s about as normal as you or me, near as I can tell.” Dumbledore said. “Lemon drop, anyone?”

Everyone but Tom declined.

Handing a lemon drop to the boy, and popping a second into his own mouth, Dumbledore puckered his mouth at the sour taste as he explained.

“Marvelous feat of magic, of course. Draco, I don’t believe I’ve ever hear of a more perfectly executed piece of bond-magic in all my studies. Masterful. Dangerous, but very well done. And integrated so smoothly with the courtship ritual too. The staged betrayal, the concealed revelation, the emotions plucked so neatly from both of you for the perfect magical mixture. Lovely work, just lovely.” Dumbledore rambled.

“Oh, _honestly_ , Headmaster, could you please just tell us what you found?” Hermione growled impatiently.

“What? Oh yes! Well it looks like Mr. Riddle here is fully manifested already. No drain, none at all. The infant is clearly glowing with magic. Why, he’s already got Harry’s eyes, by Merlin’s depleted left ball! Hmm, I never did figure out why he used up the left one, the Greeks always used the right testicle for that enchantment, perhaps the old man was senile and forgot. I’ll have to look into that before I grow senile myself. Never too early to start working on my memoirs, either, hmm.”

“ _Headmaster_?” Harry asked patiently.

“Harry! My goodness! What are you doing here?” the old man exclaimed.

“How can he be fully manifested if he’s just a fragment of a fragment of a soul? The one in the diary tried to build a body using Ginny.” Harry prompted.

“Oh, that! Well, that was a Horcrux. What’s left in you isn’t a Horcrux, my boy. It’s a purified soul, so its magic is strengthened by Love, of course. And since little Scorpius was conceived in love, and young Tom here latched onto him so he could have someone to love, well, that’s all the magic he really needed to manifest in solid form. Voldemort never did understand the power of Love, but this new Tom Riddle clearly does. With Love comes the power to heal, the power to create life, and sadly the power to hurt us as well. My poor, poor Gellert, how I miss him so…”

Dumbledore suddenly was nodding off, faint snores coming from behind his beard.

“Is he alright?” Tom asked, alarmed.

Harry moved forward and helped the old man lay on his side, placing a cushion under his head and bestowing a gentle kiss on a hoary cheek.

“The headmaster is…getting very old.” Draco said, soberly.

Tom looked at the old man sadly.

“He was so…so…powerful when I met him. And happy, he was always laughing and carefree.” He remembered.

Severus frowned.

“There is a particularly painful existence reserved for those who destroy the one they love.” He said somberly.

Harry looked up at the Potions Master, something old, and painful, and compassionate in his eyes.

“Sir?” Tom said, not understanding the tension.

“Severus,” Harry began uncertainly.

Severus shook his head as if to clear it.

“Well, it seems the boy isn’t a danger, at least. I believe my work is done. Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, Mrs. Weasley. I shall take my leave.”

Severus whirled around, back straight, and disappeared down the hallway.

“What’s wrong with him?” Tom asked.

“He…blames himself for my mother’s death.” Harry said simply.

“And Professor Dumbledore?”

“Do you know anything of what was going on in the wizarding world when you met him?” Draco asked.

“The war…” Tom remembered.

“Grindelwald and Dumbledore were lovers.” Draco said.

“And he had to-, oh.” Tom looked at the beaten old man sleeping on the couch.

Harry came and sat next to Tom.

“Voldemort always feared Death more than anything. He thought it was ignominious.” Harry told him. “He never understood that there are far worse things a person could do to themselves.”

Tom looked up into the big green eyes, so like Scorpius’.

“I would never hurt him. _Never_!” he swore fiercely.

Harry put a hand on his shoulder.

“I know. You have something Voldemort never had. That’s why I trust you with my son. And…that’s why we’d really like you to be a part of this family, too.”

Tom shuddered under the kind hand and the even kinder words. A strange pricking sensation was behind his eyes and he found that Harry and Draco, behind him, had suddenly gone blurry.

“What is…are you…you… _really_?” he squeaked.

He was suddenly enfolded in a four-armed hug between the two men, and Harry nodded as Draco behind him said into his ear, 

“Really. Son.”

And Tom Riddle buried his face between his new father’s chests and cried like the little boy he’d never had the chance to be.


	5. Family Matters

Regulus Sirius Potter-Malfoy Black eyed the strange boy with suspicion.

“Regulus, James, I know we told you you’d be getting a new brother.” Draco told them carefully. “Well, it seems your Daddy’s magic had a surprise for us.”

The boys fidgeted restlessly in their seats. These family meetings were a dreadful bore.

Harry cleared his throat, and Draco fell silent.

“What your father is trying to tell you is, you’re getting two new brothers instead of one.”

Their eyes widened as their dad put a fatherly hand on the strange boy’s shoulder.

“This is Tommy, he’s your age, and…he’s….uh….”

Draco cut in smoothly.

“Tommy was trapped by the Dark Lord a long, long time ago, and was magically imprisoned inside your Dad since _he_ was a baby. He’s only just now escaped, with Scorpius’ help.” He told them.

Regulus and James both focused on Tommy, interested at the prospect of a tale of magical daring-do. Their fathers had told them very dry, matter-of-fact stories of their adventures that tended to suck all the fun out of them. _History lessons_ their Papa called them, and their Dad would get a very upset look on his face like it hurt him to talk about things.

Tommy stared back at them with an uncertain expression.

“How did Scorpius help? He’s just a baby!” James asked scornfully.

“Scorpius is a very strong _wizarding_ -baby.” Draco scolded. “And he was able to help because he had both a magical and physical way out of your father, and young Thomas here was able to come out with him.”

“Why did Voldemort put you inside Daddy?” Regulus challenged Tommy directly.

The boy looked up at the two adults for direction, and just got an encouraging nod from Harry.

“I think it had something to do with becoming immortal. I…I guess I used to be part of him.” He said slowly.

“Part of him?” Regulus pounced. “How?”

Harry interceded quickly.

“This is very, _very_ Dark magic, boys. Voldemort was a very evil, twisted being, but before he became evil he was just a normal boy, like you, or like Tommy here. And he was terrified of dying, so he did horrible, unnatural things to try to keep that from happening. One of the things he did, was take pieces of his soul and hide them where he thought nobody could find them.” Harry lectured.

“So you’re part of the Dark Lord?” Regulus interrogated ruthlessly. Tommy cringed.

“ _No_.” Harry said forcefully, giving his oldest son the evil eye. He softened his voice. “No. Voldemort is gone. We destroyed his evil completely. Tommy here is…the good boy that existed before the evil took root and created that monster.”

He looked each boy in the eye, his face very serious.

“Your father and I spent a long time deciding whether or not to tell you this. We thought you might be too young, too immature, to handle it. And I was worried that you might treat Tommy differently, that you might not understand the difference between this Tommy and the one who became evil. _Do_ you understand, sons?”

Regulus thought for a long moment.

“How do you know he’s not evil? Even if this Tommy hasn’t done evil stuff yet, maybe he’s planning to?”

Harry looked upset at the question, but Draco nodded in approval.

“You’ve learned to ask the sharp questions that solve the puzzle quickly, very good Regulus.” His Papa praised. “There are two reasons. The first, is that I designed the ritual to vanquish Voldemort myself. It was bonding magic, powered by your father’s and my love for each other. The root of the Dark Lord’s evil was his hatred and rejection of Love. His evil could not survive that ritual. The second is that your Uncle Severus searched Tommy’s memories and found that that ritual destroyed all his memories past a certain point – right before when I believe your great-uncle would have poisoned his mind with the particular brand of blood-politics that the Dark Lord was so obsessed with.”

Tommy looked up at Draco, shocked realization on his face.

“The boy…he had blonde hair and silver eyes like yours!”  
Draco nodded.

“My grandfather’s older brother Mithras.” He said, his expression grim.

“He…sent me to the lonely place.”

“No. I did that, with our bonding ritual. It…erased what he said to you, and everything after that.”

“Oh.” Tom said. “I guess…it wasn’t good.”

“No.”

“Are you going to Hogwarts?” James asked brightly, interrupting the solemn moment.

“I…I was supposed to, before I…well…before it was all erased. I’d just gotten onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters when everything went wonky!”

The twins grew excited at that.

“Really?”

“What was it like?”

“Are there really Muggles running all over the place like ants?”

“I heard the Hogwarts Express is the size of a house, bigger even!”

“Did you see any Wrackspurts? Aunt Luna says they’re all over the station!”

And with that, the three boys were chattering away like the best of friends, the twins relentlessly pumping Tommy for details about the Muggle world, Kings Cross, and the Hogwarts Express.

The chatter was cut off abruptly by a shower of sparks from Draco’s hawthorne wand.

“If you boys could hold off your conversation until later, we still have a few things to discuss. Most importantly, whether Tommy should go to Hogwarts.” He cut in.

The boys instantly silenced themselves.

“Well…he has to, right? He’s eleven.” James said slowly, as if stating a painfully obvious fact to a moron.

“There _is_ the small matter of explaining his existence.” Draco said wryly. 

“I think you boys need to think very carefully about this. We took a big risk telling you where Tommy came from, because you’re his brothers. But do you think most people in the wizarding world are going to bother trying to understand?” Harry said.

The boys looked at their father with wide eyes.

“Why not? _We_ understood it, we’re _eleven_.” Regulus jeered.

Harry sighed and closed his eyes.

“Boys, you have to understand that you didn’t grow up being frightened every day. Afraid for your lives, or your family member’s lives. People…don’t think straight about things they’re afraid of. And Voldemort is a name that most people _still_ won’t even say out loud, even though he’s dead.”

“I have to agree with your father, sons.” Draco added. “And after you get your wands, before Hogwarts, we’re going to perform a secrecy ritual to make sure you don’t let slip Thomas’ identity to anyone. Not _anyone_ , understand? If people found out – most of them would try to kill him. Do you understand?”

The boys shivered and nodded. Their father had a careful, enunciated way of speaking about grave matters that made the whole world seem to weigh more than usual.

“Good. I can see that scares you. You _should_ be scared. This is a very serious matter that we are entrusting you with.” Draco said in his serious voice. “And…I mean it when I say you should tell no one. _No_ one. Not even your grandfather Lucius. Actually, especially him.”

“Grandfather Lucius?” Tommy asked quizzically.

Draco looked at him contemplatively, concern knitting a line between his eyebrows.

“Yes. He…you should know that in the past, he was Voldemort’s second-in-command. I suggest you be extremely wary of him. I…do not know how he would reactu to this bit of knowledge.”

“So what do we do about Hogwarts?” Regulus prompted.

“Tommy, I think that is up to you. If you wish to go, we will have to make some serious adjustments. Your name will need to be changed.” Harry said.

“You can’t use a pseudonym in a magical place like Hogwarts, the secret will be out very quickly. Too many spells react to lineage.” Draco interrupted. “But that shouldn’t be a problem. Thomas has a magically enforceable claim to quite a few family names, especially after we’ve officially adopted him. The pressing question is his tie to Scorpius.”  
Harry frowned.

“He didn’t get very far this morning.”

“About fifteen feet.” Draco agreed. “But it may be possible to stretch that, I think some experimentation is in order. Thomas?”

“I…I would like to go to Hogwarts.” He looked over at Scorpius, who was burbling happily at magical fireflies that kept evading his grasp. “But I don’t think I can be too far from Scorpius.”

“Was there any physical pull to go back to him, when you tried to leave with us this morning?”

“No…I just was afraid something would happen to him and I wouldn’t be there to protect him.”

“Hmmm. So it operates upon the will through emotions. That’s quite typical since the connection is powered by Love magic. I think you may be able to extend your range of freedom, and the time you can be away, through Occlumency. I can teach you a few exercises to get you started.” Draco said.

“Are you willing to try?” Harry asked.

“I…I guess it wouldn’t be fair to take him to classes. But I don’t think I could be away from him for very long.”  
Harry nodded seriously.

“I think Scorpius would need to be at Hogwarts with you, but that may not be such a problem. I believe the Headmaster may finally get his wish this year.” He looked at his husband inquiringly. Draco quirked an amused eyebrow, then nodded.

“Go ahead and write the Headmaster, then.” He turned to the three boys. “You two, try to keep out of trouble for a few hours.” He dismissed the young heirs with a wave, then considered Tom.

“And me?”

“Well, I suppose first we should settle on a name for you. Too many people would connect your last name to Voldemort. You have a claim to the Malfoy legacy through your tie to Scorpius and your status as my adopted son. You have ties to the Black and Potter legacies as Harry’s adopted son. But since you are not a blood-heir those will grant you only secondary status if you end up in Slytherin again.” Draco said.

Tom frowned.

“Slytherin?”

Draco smiled at him.

“New students are sorted according to their character into one of four houses. In another life, you were Slytherin. So was I, by the way.”

“The boy on the platform didn’t like my name…the people in Slytherin are like that?” Tom asked.

“They won’t be quite _that_ savage about it now, especially if you’re related to Harry Potter-Malfoy. But it _will_ matter.”

“So what should I do if I’m not a blood-heir to anything but Riddle?”

“Well, but you _are_. You’re blood-heir to the Gaunt line, such as it is. And much more importantly, you are the heir of Slytherin.”

“Slytherin House has an heir?”

“Slytherin House is named after Salazar Slytherin. One of the four Founders of Hogwarts. A _very_ prestigious line, as close to royalty as you’ll find in wizarding Britain. The only issue with that name is…there are those who will want to know your exact lineage.”

“So what should we do?”

Draco stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment.

“The problem we have is, the closer we get to the truth, the better your story will hold up to any kind of magical investigation…but with a higher risk of someone guessing the truth. If you claim the Slytherin name, people will both want to verify your claim and be interested enough in your story to make guesses.”

Tom thought about that a moment.

“If someone guessed the truth, would there be any way for them to prove it?”

“Barring the use of Veritaserum…I don’t think so. The existence of Horcruxes is so obscure that we only found out about them through some very extreme means. Magic will respond to the name and lineage that you rightfully claim. You understand you’ll likely be subjected to some very artful interrogation by your fellow students…and anyone else you come into contact with?”

“I…I think I can handle it.” Tom said, biting his lip.

Draco smiled at him.

“Occulmency will help, as well. Now, spend a moment clearing your mind, and then look me in the eye. I’ll be trying to jump into your mind the way Professor Snape did…only a bit less forcefully.”


	6. Back to School

“Jamie! Jamie!” 

The grand entry hall of Malfoy Manor shuddered as two eleven-year-olds burst through the double doors that led to the library – where they were _supposed_ to be hand-copying pages from Reflections of Inner Glory: A Handbook of Manners for Young Purebloods.

“Regulus! James! Oh, it’s so good to see you little monsters again!” 

Jamina Lily Black swept into the Entry Hall like a swirling gust of wind, handing off her bags to a house elf on her right, shrugging off her Puffskein fur cloak and allowing it to swirl gracefully onto the magical coat rack on her left – freeing her limbs to catch a nephew in each arm as they hurtled into her, wrapping small arms around her waist.

“Goodness you’ve grown over the past three months! Why, you’re practically as big as your fathers!” she praised them, dropping a kiss each on the two dark-haired heads before pulling back from herself for a better look.

The twins were very nearly identical. Both an even mixture of both their fathers’ features, except that James had his grandmother’s startling green eyes while Regulus’ eyes were the same grey as her own. No doubt, a difference made by the two ancient lines each claiming a twin as its scion.

“Wow, look at you boys! Every time I turn my back, you grow so much I can barely recognize you!” she smiled at them to let them know she was joking and gave them another hug.

“What did you bring us?” the boys immediately demanded once the greetings were complete.

Jamie smirked.

“What makes you think I brought you something?”

The twins faltered a moment.

“But you always bring us something!”

“So _that’s_ why you’re always so happy to see me.” 

Jamie put her hands on her hips in mock dismay.

The twins paused and glanced guiltily up at the balcony to see if their father had witnessed their dreadful _faux paux_.

“No we love you, too, Aunt Jamie!” James assured her earnestly.

“But we like the things you bring us even more!” Regulus added, then went silent at the horrified gasp from above.

Three sets of eyes locked onto the third eleven year old to enter the room, the young Scorpius Malfoy held carefully in his arms.

“That’s a horribly rude thing to say, Regulus! You’re lucky P-Papa didn’t hear you or you’d be writing even _more_ pages!” the boy said, hesitating on and then emphasizing the word ‘Papa’ with a queer sort of pride.

Jamie drew herself up and studied both the boy and the infant with interest.

“You must be Tom Riddle.” She observed, stepping smoothly toward the grand staircase that led up to the balcony. “I am Jamina Black, I hope you’ll call me Jamie like these two.”

The boy moved forward carefully, waiting near the top step of the staircase for her.

“I’ve changed my name to Thomas Marvolo Slytherin, you can still call me Tom though.” He said a bit shyly.

Then he proudly presented the infant to her.

“And this is Scorpius Hyperion Potter-Malfoy!” he said the name with some relish, lifting the blanket so that she could admire the white-blond hair and the Lily-Potter-green eyes.

Jamie gasped in delight at the combination, then gasped again as the baby took a firm grasp of the finger she offered and tugged on it imperiously.

“Oh my God! He’s beautiful isn’t he?” Jamie whispered in awe.

Tom smiled, deciding he liked this energetic but graceful new relative.

“Of course he is! He’s a Malfoy!”

Jamie laughed at the obvious parroting of the infant’s more dignified parent.

“Indeed he is.” A deeper voice agreed from the opposite balcony. “But who exactly are you, young man?”

Jamie jumped slightly and narrowed her eyes at the blonde-haired man regarding them from the other side of the room.

“Lucius, surely Harry and Draco told you of their plans to adopt the other Slytherin heir?” Jamie said, with just an ounce of condescension in her voice.

Lucius paused at that. To admit surprise would reveal the level of his own exclusion within his own house. On the other hand, a second heir to Slytherin was a strategic development that was not necessarily a positive one.

“I had assumed Draco was speaking hypothetically,” he said carefully “am I to understand that _this_ is in fact another descendant of the Founder?”

Tom carefully handed Scorpius to Jamie and turned towards Lucius, nodding towards the wide platform where the two grand staircases met against the wall and proceeding down the stairs towards it.

As the two met there, Tom bowed to Lucius, receiving a similar bow in return.

“I am Thomas Marvelo Slytherin, and pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Lucius Malfoy, and likewise.”

“As a member of the family, I’d be pleased if you would call me by my first name.”

Lucius’ shock was only partly hidden as he took the boy’s hand and gripped it firmly.

“Then you must do me the same honor, Thomas.”

Lucius turned towards Jamie, who was coming down the stairs with Scorpius in her arms.

“Jamina, what a pleasant surprise!” he said evenly, rage boiling in his eyes “How did you find New York?”

Jamie’s laugh was musical as she assured him that it had been a splendid holiday but that she was glad to be home.

“But how are you feeling, Lucius? Draco wrote that he was very concerned about you, keeping yourself to your rooms at all hours? I hope the addition of two powerful new grandsons has broken you from your melancholy!” Jamie asked.

“Quite! At long last, an heir of Malfoy!” Lucius took the infant from her and smiled grimly at the tuft of blonde hair. 

His eyebrows rose as his own hair lost its smooth sheen, puffing out slightly with a static charge.

“Great Merlin! He’s powerful!” he said, clearly pleased.

“I told you.” Draco said from behind him, his voice oozing smugness. “Worth the wait, is he not?”

Lucius considered his son, then his grandson for a moment.

“Has he been tested yet?”

“One hundred eighty-five.” Draco said smugly.

Lucius frowned.

“That’s a bit less than the Potter heir, isn’t it? Perhaps you should re-evaluate your theories, son. Clearly-”

“ _Clearly_ , Scorpius was not conceived out of a battlefield marriage ritual, and was the _third_ offspring to draw on his parent’s magic, but holds the average of his older brother’s magical potential – far above _my_ EMASCULATE, Lucius.” Draco interrupted, annoyed with the criticism.

“Yes, he is certainly all that Malfoy can hope for in a powerful young scion.” Lucius backtracked carefully. “You have done extremely well for the family, Draco. I would never complain.”

Draco paused, then nodding to accept the compliment and the implied apology. He considered his father. 

Lucius had been…difficult since the war. He was still technically a fugitive, though Harry had managed to pull strings to assure a lack of proactive effort to recapture him. 

The man was a disgrace to his house and knew it, a failure in all but the upbringing of his son – who had brilliantly rescued the Malfoy name and fortune from his own horrible miscalculations and then maneuvered the family into unprecedented prestige.

Over the past eleven years, Lucius had grown steadily bitter and miserable, finding his beliefs about blood and magic proven wrong over and over as the magical community dramatically increased in power and knowledge by taking advantage of the fresh blood and fresh ideas the muggleborns seemed to have an endless supply of. His own mistakes, made worse by the fact that the magical community tended to gloss them over: forgiveness earned through the efforts of his brilliant son and powerful son-in-law, haunted him. 

His long self-imposed isolation in his chambers made it clear he had judged himself an unworthy stain on the family tree.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Thomas. I…I wasn’t sure how you would react. He’s an orphan, you know. And…well, we all know what happened to the last powerful Slytherin who was left isolated in an orphanage.” He told his father in a low voice.

“His name. The Dark Lord had a book with part of that name.”

Draco leaned close to his father. Perhaps it was time to draw him in, again. Lucius needed a reason to live again, something to work towards. The telling of a secret might be the start.

Well…part of a secret.

“He is the Dark Lord’s twin brother. The Dark Lord had…imprisoned him at a young age. You are aware of how the Dark Lord liked to take souvenirs from those he conquered.” Draco said in a very low voice.

Lucius’ eyes widened, flitting between his son and the unassuming eleven-year-old boy standing quietly between his two grandsons, now.

“He appears to be only a child, still.” Lucius said questioningly.

“He was trapped in stasis for nearly a hundred years. When Harry…rescued him, well…you are somewhat aware of his own upbringing.”

Lucius nodded. Draco had promised Harry he wouldn’t take personal revenge on the Dursleys, but had let that bit of family history slip to Lucius, who had taken it upon himself to arrange a subtle spell that would slowly unwind the cherished normality of the Muggles’ lives over a period of decades until they found themselves even more entangled in strangeness and oddity than the ‘freak’ they had harbored.  
Muggles simply couldn’t be allowed to get away with torturing wizard children. New age of enlightenment or no.

“How long ago was this?”

“We found him years ago. Undoing the curse he was trapped under required bonding him to a new magical soul and allowing them to enter the physical world together.”

Lucius was white with shock, now.

“You bonded him to _Scorpius_! Are you mad? How could you do something like this to your own son, the Malfoy _heir_ , and never even consult me?” he hissed furiously.

Draco put a hand on his father’s arm.

“You know I would never endanger my son. Dumbledore, and Granger have been involved, and I don’t have to tell you that Harry and I are quite competent ourselves.”

“What about Severus? Or myself? Why do you insist on acting without guidance?”

“Father. I know you regret your actions, and Severus was a spy for the light. But you both still bear the Dark Lord’s magic in your marks. Magic that Tom here is intimately familiar with, and not in a positive way. I could not risk your involvement, even indirectly. Bonding magic is very sensitive.”

Lucius calmed down, understanding that argument at least.

“Why did you not choose someone besides your son to bond him to?”

Draco scoffed at that.

“Do you take me for a Hufflepuff, father? If there will be a wizard more powerful than Harry, or than our sons, it will be this one. I have given my son a powerful, utterly loyal ally for life. If they are inclined, they may transform the bond into a marriage bond one day and even further enrich our family line.”

Lucius nodded in realization. Once again, his old instincts to raise the wards and strike down any threat were proven to be the lesser of his ambitious son’s genius for co-opting the opposition.

“You are…wiser than me, I think, Draco. I am glad that I have at least this to boast of as I catalogue my debts.” He told his son.

Draco’s eyes widened in recognition of the familiar phrase. 

Reaching out, he grabbed his father fiercely, holding him close and whispering vehemently in his ear.

“Don’t you _dare_ start talking about your debts yet! You’re only sixty-five, how _dare_ you start talking like you’ve finished! You have grandchildren, now. You have a powerful son-in-law you’ve barely started to get to know. What is _wrong_ with you, father? The old Lucius would have already slipped into the role James Potter left vacant and become Harry Potter’s closest mentor by now!”

“Draco, I may be young in body but my mind is not made for this new world you’ve created!” Lucius argued. “The son-in-law you speak of is a child I have hated from his infancy! The alliances you’re creating are ones I have always believed to be abominations. My instincts are _wrong_! I know that now, you and the muggleborns you’ve allied with have proven that and proven that and I cannot read a single new magical text anymore without having my nose rubbed in my own foolishness. But those are _still my instincts_ Draco! I cannot change them no matter how foolish they are! I may have decades left but my usefulness is at an end.”

Draco glared at his father.

“And since when have Malfoys lived only by our instincts? You taught me in all things to use my mind first, to analyze and dissect and then to analyze my own thoughts before I even begin to scheme! Perhaps your instincts are old and useless but your mind and wand are not! You are no longer Lord, you are free to go out and learn new things, new ways of thinking! So _do_ that!”

Lucius sighed.

“What would you have me do? Go take classes at your Mudblood Institute?”

“Do you think that would help? Perhaps taking a few of Granger’s classes would teach you some new instincts.” Draco countered.

Lucius looked uncomfortable.

“You don’t like that idea. But you’ve just essentially told me you had nothing more to contribute. I think you should go learn something new. Yes. I think that’s exactly what you should do, Lucius.”

Lucius looked at his son in dismay. The use of his first name suggested Draco was speaking as Lord of Malfoy, rather than as his concerned son.

“You…are sending me away?”

Draco looked at his father. The man was proud, as any Malfoy was proud. But it seemed he was capable of admitting his mistakes. The despair that came of doing so was a testament to that pride. But…in time, once that pride was knocked down a bit more it could one day be rebuilt.

“Yes. I am.” He said firmly. “I will call Granger right now.”

He caught his father’s habitual sneer as he pulled out the hybrid device to make the call.

“Of course, if you wished we could owl her, wait for her reply, and then make a _second_ trip to acquire the books and supplies you will need.” 

He waited, an eyebrow raised. His father nodded his apology and Draco formed the Intent that would cause the phone to connect to Granger’s personal line.

“Hello, Granger? Listen, I have something of an odd request for you. So sorry about doing this at the last minute, but do you think you could get someone into the University’s hybrid magic program for this year? Yes, an adult. My father. Don’t worry about that, we know plenty of people in MLE, we’ll have it commuted to parole and community service by then. No, I don’t think he’s ready to choose a specialty yet, he’s kept up on current developments but he really just needs some immersion into the new ways of thinking about magic. Yes, I can send them. Can you? Great. Great! Yes, we’re just about to take the boys, we’ll pick up his books while we’re out. Of course we’re still on, but perhaps we could move it to somewhere a bit less plebian, don’t you think? Of _course_ Harry won’t mind! Well you handle Ron and I’ll handle Harry. Yes, yes, anything is better than that horrid pub. Alright, I’ll see you later on this afternoon then, thanks again.”

Draco hung up the phone, then waited a moment while the device built up a visible magical charge.

“She’s faxing your supplies list right now.” He informed his father, just as the phone gave a warning flash, and Draco deftly caught the rolled-up parchment that had been apparated right in front of him.

He perused it quickly before handing it to Lucius.

“I think you have a few of these already, why don’t you check off the ones we don’t need to bother with?”

Lucius obliged, glaring at the ball-point pen his son innocently offered him before pacing into the library and checking off several texts with an old-fashioned quill.

“I’ll have the tailor come by to get updated measurements while we’re out. You’ll need to get some Muggle clothes. You’re aware they’re integrated with the Cambridge campus, aren’t you?” Draco called over his shoulder as he walked out of the library in search of his sons.

 

 

Diagon Alley was a beehive of insane activity.

“This is what you get for putting it off to the last minute.” Draco informed his husband, who was laboring to control a subtle pushing ward that would hopefully gain them a clear path to Ollivanders.

“You _know_ why we had to wait until now. And if we hadn’t, we’d still be here today to get your fathers’ books.” Harry retorted. The ward was working…sort of. The path wasn’t exactly clear, but the crowd between them and the wandmakers’ shop was less closely packed now.

“Stay close, boys – let’s go!” Harry called, and with a chorus of ‘excuse me’, ‘pardon me’, ‘so sorry’ the caravan of wizards, one witch, and an infant made their way through the crowd.

Ollivander looked like he’d seen a ghost when he laid eyes on Tom.

“Tom Riddle, as I live and breathe. How are you standing in my shop?” he gasped.

Harry stepped forward to support the trembling old man.

“Mr. Ollivander, I’m so sorry to trouble you with this. There was…a complication with the ritual that banished Voldemort. Only the evil part of him is gone and Tom is…well…what’s left.” He told him in a low voice.

“I…I see.” Ollivander examined the boy carefully. “You don’t look a day older than when I first met you.”

“I shouldn’t…as far as I know it was a couple weeks ago.” Tom said.

“Tom has had some trouble with the wand you gave him. Or perhaps I should say…wands.” Harry added, pulling the familiar length of Yew from his inner pocket. Tom produced a similar wand from his own pocket.

Ollivander did a double take at the two lengths, and pursed his lips in fascination.

“A doubled wand. Very unusual. I’ve never actually seen it for myself.” He reached for both wands and laid them side-by-side.

“Tom can’t use spells with the wand that came with his soul, and the Dark Lord’s wand won’t recognize his magic. I tried to unite them with the Reflection spell but they acted like they weren’t the same wand.” Harry told the wandmaker.

“Yes…yes the Reflection spell is appropriate, very good Harry. But these wands are no longer a perfect match.” Ollivander mused.

“What? Why not? They should be!”

Ollivander held up Tom’s wand.

“This wand is clean. It’s never passed an unclean spell. Never passed _any_ spell, so I suppose this Tom is from before Hogwarts.”

He held up Voldemort’s identical wand.

“This wand has a history of Dark Magic and murder.”

“So why can’t Tom use his wand?”

“It’s just a projection of the pure wand that used to exist. The Dark Lord’s wand won’t recognize him because this Tom’s magical signature is still pure, and that wand has grown along with the magical signature of the Dark Lord.”

“So what…he needs a new wand?”

“I don’t think that will be necessary. The Dark Lord’s wand will simply have to be purged of it’s history before we can reunite it with it’s replica.”

“How?”

“I do hope you still have it’s brother, Harry.”

“Of course.”

“Well, you’ve done this bit of magic before. I suggest you and Tom trade wands for this, though. This wand has cast the Killing Curse on you before, and you’ve cast Unforgivables of your own, so it will be more in tune with you than this innocent lad.”

Harry went silent at that, and Draco squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

“Go on, Harry.”

Harry handed his wand to Tom and accepted Voldemort’s wand from Ollivander.

“Tom, you’ll want to cast Expelliarmus at me, like I taught you before. I’m going to cast it at you. We have to do this at the same time so the wands will connect.”

Tom nodded understanding.

“When the wands connect, Harry, you need to relax. Tom, there will be a bead of light, you need to concentrate on pushing that bead with your magic until it hits your wand in Harry’s hand. Understood?”

Both nodded.

“Let’s move down into the basement for this.” Draco interrupted. “I don’t think Tom needs the sort of attention this is going to bring.”

In the basement, the two faced off and cast at the same time. As Voldemort’s wand rewound through its long history of murders, Harry was almost disappointed that his parents and Cedric Diggory were missing from the litany.

Obviously. Once they were purged that one night, their souls’ imprint on the wand was gone forever.

Two exhausting hours later, the identical wands were lying next to each other on a long bowl with a flat silver mirror in the bottom.

“Very well, this should work just fine now they are truly identical.” Ollivander said, tipping a beaker of water into the tray.

“Why the water?”

“Well, this ritual plays upon the tricks of light and reflection. When you look at the wands at first, you see four wands, the two real wands and the two reflections. Then with the water, you see four wands and your own reflection, right? But now I raise the original up out of the water.”

Ollivander used his wand to levitate Voldemort’s wand out of the receptacle so that it hovered just above the surface.

“Now what do you see?”

“I see a wand above the water, and two wands below it.” Tom said.

“Very good. Now, if you could be so kind, Harry.”

Harry shined a lumos on the wand hovering above the receptacle.

“Now what do you see?”

“Um…there’s a wand above the water and only one wand in the water…that doesn’t make sense…what happened to the mirror?”

“You aren’t seeing everything. You see the wand above the water, and you see its reflection in the water. You don’t see the wand in the water, nor _it’s_ reflection because the wand in the air is brighter, and it’s reflection blots out the light from under the surface.” Ollivander said.

“So now we can’t see my wand…um…I mean the reflection of the old wand…but we see a different reflection instead.” Tom observed.

“Exactly.”

“But we know my reflection-wand is still in there, right?”

“Do we? I only see the one reflection.” Ollivander said smugly.

Tom hesitated.

“Go on.”

Tom reached into the water, paused, then withdrew his hand with a puzzled frown.

“It’s not there.”

“No indeed.” Ollivander levitated the hovering wand to the boy’s hand. “Enjoy your re-united wand.”

“But you didn’t use any spells except Lumos and Wingardium Leviosa.” He protested.

Ollivander winked.

“There are all sorts of magic, young Tom. I could have done the same with a candle and some string. Mind you, that would be more difficult – the wand on the bottom would have to be tied in exactly the opposite way. Magic is a complicated thing. It can work through puns and word choice in Transfiguration, it can make the imagination into reality in Illusion and Occulmency, it can do incredible things when motivated by strong emotions as I’m sure you’ve been told by Harry and Draco here, it can take advantage of tricks of perception like I’ve shown you here. And of course there is also physical magic like you will learn in Potions – and which I often use to make wands. A well-rounded wizard is a powerful wizard, remember that and keep your mind open.”

Tom took his wand reverently and gave it an experimental flick. Blue sparks came from the tip.

“I will, sir. Thank you.”

Ollivander turned to Regulus and James as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.

“Now, let’s see about getting wands for these fine young wizards as well, shall we? Now, I must ask you both a question of great importance, what are your favorite foods?”


	7. On the Hogwarts Express

“Did you pack plenty of underwear and socks?”

“Yes, Dad.” The twins chorused, rolling their eyes at their father.

Tom just shared a private smirk with Draco.

“Are you sure all your books are in your trunk? I forgot my Potions book once and that didn’t work out so well...”

“You put them in there, Dad.” Regulus informed him, rolling his eyes again.

“Does everybody have their wand?”

All three boys brandished their wands.

Harry turned to his husband.

“Draco, are we forgetting something? We must be forgetting something!”

“Do you have your Cloak, Harry?” Draco responded, quite a bit more calmly.

Harry’s eyes widened in shock, and in a flash he had turned and sprinted to their bedroom to retrieve the heirloom.

The twins and Draco snickered - even Tom smiled at that one. 

Their father had been absolutely frantic with nerves about the impending trip to Hogwarts. Trunks had been packed and repacked and audited for further repacking. Their wands had been meticulously polished, counter-jinxes drilled, Protean charms executed and tested, style and color charts for outfit assembly memorized and recited, and the pre-term reading assigned by their godmother obsessively supervised. 

On a more fun note, WWW products had been added to their trunks by Harry, then removed by Draco, then different products replaced there by Draco and removed by Harry to be replaced by still others which were surreptitiously removed by Draco…until eventually a negotiated settlement of assorted pranks had been ceremonially placed into the trunk by both parents and warded with alarms to prevent future tampering by either. Draco and Harry had then each (on separate occasions) quietly slipped other products into robe pockets with a quiet word not to tell the other. The three youngsters had, of course, agreed.

And now it was finally time to go.

“I still don’t see why we can’t take them.” Regulus scowled.

“First-years are not allowed their own brooms. You know that.” Draco said tonelessly. It was an old argument.

“But teachers can! And then we could use them!”

“I think we’ve discussed the social drawbacks of overt favoritism from the teachers.” Draco chastised his sons. “In any case, you wouldn’t get much use out of them.”

“But Dad did when he was a first year!”

“Your Dad was the Boy Who Lived and nearly got killed on at least two occasions during his first year. I _hope_ we won’t be able to say the same about any of you.” Draco said severely.

Harry came bounding back down the grand staircase, silvery garment in hand.

“Got it, let’s go!” he huffed.

“But-” Regulus started

Draco gave his son the evil eye and Regulus shut up.

“Brooms again?” Harry grunted.

Draco just nodded and flicked his wand to levitate a trunk. 

Harry followed suit by levitating the second and third, and the five of them quickly passed out the doors to the vehicle waiting outside.

 

At Platform 9 ¾ the chaotic atmosphere was contagious. All three boys, even the usually serious Tom were bouncing on their toes, chattering to their fiery-haired cousins and pointing excitedly at everything in sight despite Draco’s horrified admonishments about “manners” and “dignity”. 

Tom reluctantly relinquished Scorpius to Harry with a stern admonishment that his brother would be due for feeding in thirty minutes and that his father had best remember that the infant preferred his milk warmed with just a very light sweetening spell. Harry took the child with appropriate assurances and shooed the teen off to “go make some friends and don’t be shy”.

With a long look backwards at his two new parents and baby brother, Tom struck off in a different direction in search of more dignified companions than the twins. He wandered between small knots of excited children and their harried and frantic relatives in search of…something. He could feel Scorpius still tugging at his soul from across the terminal, but he knew he would need allies his own age if he was to secure a place for himself in this school.

“Good morning, are you a first-year too?” A cultured but young voice inquired from behind him.

Tom spun around and saw a striking boy with unusual coloring. His brilliant blue eyes and soft golden curls seemed out of place against his dusky skin. The two boys looked at each other for a long moment, sizing each other up. The boy held himself carefully, a lot like the way Draco did (and tried to make Tom and the twins do). His face was pleasant, and tipped to the side as he considered Tom.

Tom decided the boy was interesting. He drew carefully on the pureblood social skills Draco had drilled into him over the last few months.

“Yes, I am a first year. I am Thomas, and pleased to meet you.”

“Cloud Zabini. I saw you come in with the Potter-Malfoys. Are you a relative of theirs?”

Tom knew, from Draco’s instructions, that this was a very polite and artful way of inquiring as to his blood status and family. He smiled at the other boy in response.

“I am their adopted son.”

“Really? I don’t think there was any media coverage of an adoption.”

“Harry doesn’t like publicity. He said they’d figure it out eventually. And Draco said we had no obligation to do the Prophet’s job for them, if they don’t know it’s because they’re too incompetent to keep track of Ministry records.”

“How…interesting. Well, it _is_ lovely to meet you, Thomas Potter-Malfoy.” Cloud said formally, offering his hand. Tom carefully shook it, flashing the other boy his most brilliant smile as he responded.

“Actually, I chose to retain my own family name. It’s Thomas Marvolo Slytherin.”

Cloud froze for a moment, his face going into that careful blank state Draco used sometimes as his mind came to grips with what he’d just heard.

“Thomas… _Slytherin_. You’ll forgive me if I’m a bit skeptical.” He said cautiously.

Tom wordlessly held out his hand, cupped as if to hold water, and made a small cut in the meat of his palm with his wand. A few drops of blood quickly spread out on his palm. 

He raised an expectant eyebrow at Cloud.

Cloud gave him an incredulous look before waving his own wand over Tom’s palm.

“Probo verum cruor.” He intoned. A deep-sounding bell echoed faintly from somewhere.

Something stirred in the small pool of blood, a leaf of that same shade of red turned over and then lifted up, supported by a thin blood-red stalk.

Tom held his breath as curious students and two shocked-looking muggle parents stopped what they were doing to watch the spectacle.

The blood plant continued growing, splitting in two and then joining together to form a wreath, and then again inside that to form a shield, and then one tendril wound itself inside the shield to carefully depict a coiled snake…gasps sounded all around as the plant soon clearly depicted the Slytherin Crest.

“What in Merlin’s name is going on here! _Cerce_ , is that _blood magic_?” An angry looking man barreled through the crowd towards the two boys.

Cloud quickly dispelled the enchantment, and the bloody plant dissolved into thin air.

“My sincere apologies for doubting your word.” He breathed, clearly shaken.

Tom grinned at him.

“Well, it’s not like you should have just believed me. You’re the first outside my family to know I exist.”

Then the man was on them, grabbing Cloud by the collar, and proceeding to shout into his face.

“What in the name of magic did you think you were doing? Blood magic, and in front of muggles – look at them they’re about ready to run! Where did you learn such foul magic at your age? Has someone called an Auror?”

The man shook Cloud in his outrage.

Cloud just looked shellshocked, staring up at the man with frightened eyes.

“Actually, blood magic is permitted for the purpose of verifying a claim of birthright.” Tom interceded.

“Yes, well all very well and good in a courtroom or at Gringotts but this is right here on a platform! You can’t just going around casting blood-magic whenever you feel like it and then say it’s alright because it’s a birthright charm! There’s no reason to even use such a thing here on the platform!” The man blustered.

“Deputy Archer, I will _thank_ you to unhand my son. Immediately.” A silky voice said from behind the angry man. 

The man froze. Tom could see a tall, handsome man with dark skin standing behind him, his wand held delicately at the back of his neck.

“Zabini. You’ve been teaching your spawn blood-magic. No surprise there, but now he’s used it right in public.”

“I believe my son’s acquaintance just explained to you that the spell Cloud used was perfectly legal. Allow me to confirm that this is quite correct, and that while its use upon casual acquaintance is rare it is not prohibited.” Mr. Zabini said smoothly. “Now kindly remove your hand from my son before I remove it from you.”

The man was red in the face, but carefully removed his hands from both boys.

“I suggest you apologize. Your brutish assault has quite offended my son, and you would not want him to take offense and bring suit.” Cloud’s father continued.

The man glared and turned a deeper shade, but reluctantly apologized.

“My apologies young man. It seems I was in error.”

Cloud seemed to have regained his composure and nodded graciously in dismissal.

His father looked down at him disapprovingly.

“You haven’t even gotten on the train and you’re in the middle of a ruckus. May I ask what could possibly cause you to cast a birthright charm in the middle of the platform like a beggar?”

“It wasn’t for me, father.” Cloud explained hastily. He turned to Tom. “Thomas Marvolo Slytherin, meet my father, Lord Blaise Zabini.”

Mr. Zabini’s eyebrow went up about four inches at Tom’s last name.

“Slytherin? Truly this is a surprise. Well, I trust you were not offended by my son’s skepticism?”

Tom shook his head and offered his hand.

“Not at all sir, I would have done the same. Thank you for your aid, I doubt Mr. Archer would have taken my explanation seriously if you had not intervened.”

Mr. Zabini waved a hand in dismissal.

“He placed his hands on my heir, of course I had to intervene. I must confess I am curious as to where in the magical world you and your family have been hidden? There hasn’t been an heir of Slytherin since the Dark Lord, and I am quite certain he did not produce an heir of his own. Who are your parents?”

“My birth parents are long dead. But I believe you know both of my adopted parents, especially Draco.”

Mr. Zabini’s eyes went wide at that.

“Draco Malfoy? You’ve been adopted by _Draco_?”

Tom nodded.

“Yes. Shortly after rescuing me from the curse the Dark Lord had used to imprison me for several years. They’ve been preparing me to re-enter the world for several months now.”

“Well…” for a moment the elder Zabini seemed at a loss, “perhaps I should reconnect with Draco again. It’s been some time…”

“Father, if we might be excused, the train will be departing in only a few minutes.” Cloud interjected politely.

“Oh! Cloud I apologize, I hadn’t intended to monopolize your new friend.” Mr. Zabini agreed, placing a hand on Cloud’s shoulder. “Do well and make me even prouder, son. I’ll be looking forward to break.”

“As will I, father.” Cloud said, looking up into Mr. Zabini’s face intently for a moment. Then the moment was gone and Cloud turned back to Tom, ushering him comfortably towards the big red engine Tom had seen twice before.

 

Harry watched the too boys walk away together, feeling a sudden rush of his own memories of childhood introductions on this very platform. 

He had quietly observed the entire incident from under his Invisibility Cloak. It seemed Draco’s ways had rubbed off on Tom more than it ever had on the twins – he’d handled the whole situation with finesse and looked well on the way to gaining a new friend. Harry knew well the value of confrontations early on in acquaintance. His defense of Ron to Draco had cemented years of lasting friendship. He hoped this incident would create a similar bond.

He looked down at Scorpius and felt a soft smile warming across his face. What with Tom's intense protectiveness, he hadn't had the opportunities to hold Scorpius that he'd like. The drowsy warmth of the infant cradled in the carrier on his chest was a feeling he’d dearly missed since the twins had grown up.

“I guess it’s about time for you to eat, and I’d better get on the train so Tom doesn’t have a panic attack when it leaves.” He mused. 

He carefully climbed the steps and found a compartment half-full of Hufflepuffs. A subtle repelling charm and a notice-me-not on the seat insured no students would attempt to take the apparently empty space, and his Invisibility Cloak would prevent their notice of an adult on their train. The Hufflepuffs were far too busy being touchy-feely with their long-missed friends to investigate, anyway.

He settled himself and Scorpius down in the warded seat, pulled out his mirror and smiled as his husband answered almost immediately.

“How are things on your end, love?”

“I’ve repelled the initial lemon drop incursion and the Headmaster and I are about to have tea, how are you?”

“I’ve warded a little corner of Hufflepuff Heaven for myself and am resisting the urge to go check on the twins.”

“Not Thomas?”

“I’ve snooped on him already. He’s on the fast track to friendship with Cloud Zabini.”

“Well he could certainly do worse than Blaise’s son.”

“There was a bit of a fuss about the bloodright spell, I think some Muggle parents were pretty terrified by that bit of magic. Isn’t there something a bit more subtle? There should be some spell that prints a genealogy on parchment or _something_!”

Draco smirked. There was indeed such a spell, but even Harry didn't need to know _that_.

“There are other ways. But that spell is one no pureblood will dispute.”

“Anyways, that asshole Archer was very confrontational about it and was actually calling for the Aurors to arrest them or something, but Blaise showed up and smoothed things over with legal mumbo-jumbo and a few threats.”  
Draco laughed.

“Tell me he threatened to sue!”

“Yeah, he did, and he made Archer apologize to his son.”

“Delicious. I’ll have to look in on him once we’ve settled in, it’s been a while since we matched wits outside of a committee meeting.”

“Draco, I’m a little concerned about his son and Thomas. This little ‘family hobby’ of the Zabini’s is not healthy for those close to them.”

“You think…oh love you don’t need to worry about that! If you’ll recall, Pansy is still very much alive and having a gay old time with her lover in Budapest now.”

“That’s because she divorced in time to-”

“No, no dear. Trust me, I know the Zabinis’ rules. They don’t kill off their first love, and they won’t take a childhood friend for the standard Zabini death-match. Pansy and Blaise divorced after they’d made Cloud because their marriage was based on friendship and convenience and once they had an heir they both had other things, and other people, to do.”

“Tom is going to have a lot of money, Draco. And I’m concerned about an additional motive to sweeten the pot by killing off his brothers. Draco, I know Blaise is your friend, and Cloud seems like a sweet kid now, but I _know_ what that legacy holds!”

“Harry, I see your concern. But you have to realize that any family in the know would include appropriate safeguards in a marriage contract with the Zabinis. Besides, they aren’t gold-diggers, they just have a darker and much more fatalistic view of romance than most people. If Cloud does carry on that legacy, he’s not going to seduce a childhood friend to his death – trust me, Blaise and all the rest of them would be horrified by something like that.” Draco assured him.

Harry thought about that for a moment.

“God, you purebloods can be so weird sometimes. You know you still creep me out now and then?”

“I’d be disappointed if I couldn’t still manage it on occasion. Oh, to be simpleminded and see the world in only two shades.” Draco smirked.

Harry smirked back at him.

“Well, I guess I just have to accept that when you tell me things that sound insane, I should trust you because it’s your realm of expertise. Insanity, that is.”

“Very cute.” Draco sneered. “And in the meantime, shouldn’t you be feeding Scorpius?”

“Shit! I almost forgot.”

“Tom would have stormed your compartment, you know.”

“Thanks for reminding. I had better get to it.”

“I hope the twins aren’t getting in trouble…” Draco teased.

Harry blanched, almost standing up before catching himself.

“God, Draco. Don’t tempt me! I promised them I’d stay far, far away!”

“Feed the baby, Harry. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

 

 

In another compartment, the following dialogue could be heard, if one happened to be listening from underneath an invisibility cloak. Of course, one would also have seen the facial expressions and physical drama that accompanied it. 

Since some children have the foresight to exact specific promises from the parent who owns such a cloak, no such observation was possible. 

However, since _another_ parent was foresighted enough to _avoid_ making such promises, and had access to a state-of-the-art hybrid magical artifacts laboratory, the following dialogue was able to be overheard.

 

“Hi. You’re the Potter-Malfoys!”

“Yeah. I’m James, he’s Regulus.”

“I’m Rose Weasley.”

“Weasley. Oh I’ve heard of your family, too! I’m Frankie. Frankie Longbottom. Wanna meet Phillip?”

“Who’s Phillip?”

“He’s my pet turtle. Look.”

“Wow! He looks really weird and awesome! Can I touch him?”

“Why isn’t he moving?”

“Sure go ahead. He’s just lazy.”

“You should know more about your own turtle. Turtles don’t move much because their shells are so heavy. They can only move short distances, and very slowly. If you like I could lend you a book about turtles, Frankie.”

“That’s okay Rose. Anyways, in the water he can swim wicked-fast. I’ll show you in the lake when we get to Hogwarts.”

“Won’t he escape?”

“Nope! Phillip’s a familiar!”

“I have a familiar too! Wanna meet him?”

“James, you _know_ you shouldn’t be scaring people with it!”

“Shut up Rose, nobody asked you.”

“No, that’s cool, I’d love to see your familiar. What’s it’s name?”

“Frankie, meet Hissyfit!”

“~~Hello, two-leg!~~”

“Aahhh! A snake! _Three_ snakes!”

“~~The two-leg disturbs us with its inharmonious noises.~~”

“~~We should bite it and silence it.~~”

“~~Why scream? Snoring is so much more beautiful…~~”

“~~Don’t bite him, guys. He’s just startled.~~”

“It…it’s hissing at me…”

“James, quit it, you’re scaring him.”

“Shut up Rose, it’s not James’ fault he’s freaking out!”

“Don’t worry, Frankie. See, they’re just a Runespoor.”

“I…I think I’m going to-”

“Oh my god, is he okay?”

“Haha, I can’t believe he just fainted!”

“It’s not funny, James! You _know_ most people aren’t used to Parceltongue!”

“Look, this is the way I am and people need to just get over it.”

“You know, I bet you could scare a whole bunch of people this way!”

“You gonna be okay, Frankie?”

“Wha-…what?”

“You saw James’ Runespoor and you fainted.”

“Oh my god, please don’t tell people!”

“Well, he should get in trouble…”

“No, please…I don’t want to be the kid that fainted.”

“Oh, don’t worry Frankie, you’ll just be the _first_ kid that fainted!”

“Yeah, I bet we can make even some of the older kids scream if you sneak up on them with it!”

“Do you think the Parceltongue adds to the effect, Frankie?”

“Um…uh…yeah…”

“Sweet. ~~You up for some mischief and mayhem, Hissyfit?~~”

“Oh my god, I wish you wouldn’t do that...”

“You’ll get used to it. I did.”

“~~We would be delighted to help make the two-legs scream.~~” 

“~~May we eat the shelled creature?~~”

“~~Uh, no that’s Frankie’s familiar.~~”

“~~May we eat this?~~”

“~~Hey! Where did you get that?~~”

“~~It was in Master’s pocket. We can smell it, it is good.~~”

“~~I don’t think it’s for snakes, guys.~~”

“~~There are several, why would they be in our pocket if they were not for snakes?~~”

“Hey Frankie, your turtle is a reptile, right?”

“Uh…yeah…”

“So he eats reptile-things, like a snake would?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“Well here, I’m sorry for scaring you, maybe you could give Phillip some nice reptile treats on me.”

“~~Master? Why would you give our treats to the shelled creature?~~”

“~~Guys, I have to make sure it’s safe for reptiles, okay?~~”

“~~Such a waste…~~”

“~~We will still eat it when we devour the creature later!~~”

“That’s really creepy when you talk like that, James.”

“Sorry Frankie, it’s how I talk to my familiar. Here, see if Phillip likes this.”

“James, you can’t give candy to a turtle! It’s gastrointestinal tract can’t handle sugar or glucose!”

“Shut up Rose, nobody asked you.”

“James, oh my god is that a WWW wrapper?”

“Huh? Oh yeah I guess it is!”

“Quick, get it away from him!”

“Too late, he already ate it!”

“Oh my god what did Phillip eat?”

“Um…Frankie…your turtle is growing…uh…neon pink…uh…hair.”

“PHILLIP?!?”

“~~The shelled creature looks delicious this way…~~”

“~~May we eat it now?~~”

 

“So what kind of curse did the Dark Lord have you under, and why?” Cloud interrogated him once they had found an empty compartment.

“Well, I don’t know much about the curse. He put it on me right before I was supposed to go to Hogwarts, and I guess I was sort of in limbo for a really long time. But for me it’s just like I was about to go to Hogwarts for the first time and then Harry and Draco were rescuing me.”

“Was it some kind of stasis then?”

Tom frowned.

“I don’t know. I know I was trapped in some place, I remember being there so long that it seemed like forever, but there wasn’t really a concept of _time_ there. Then I rode out of there through this tunnel, and met Harry and Draco like nothing had happened.”

“Wow! That’s so wicked!”

“Uh…I didn’t much care for it actually.” Tom said with a straight face.

Cloud laughed, realizing what he’d just said.

“Sorry! So why did the Dark Lord want to pick on you if you were just a kid? I thought the only kid he was after was Harry Potter?”

“Well it was because we were both heirs of Slytherin. Draco said the curse he used meant he could use my soul to protect himself, somehow. _Really_ insanely dark magic, he said. And he’s a Malfoy.”

Cloud looked impressed.

“So what’s it like living with them? We hear all sorts of stories. Do they really duel over breakfast and then start doing sex stuff right in the middle of the fight?”

“ _What_!?” Tom asked, aghast.

Cloud wasn’t deterred.

“Well, my father was really good friends with Draco at Hogwarts, and he said Draco and Harry had always _hated_ each other. He said every year Draco would spend all his free time coming up with ways to ruin Potter, they’d hex at each other in the halls and once they got so mad they were trying to kill each other _Muggle-style_ after a Quidditch game!”

“Uh…they argue sometimes. And when Harry gets mad the air starts crackling and sometimes there’s wind and spontaneous levitation. I haven’t seen them hex each other or do any…you know, sex stuff.” Tom made a face.

Cloud looked disappointed.

“Oh well. It sounded kind of fun to watch.”

“The sex stuff?” Tom asked, disgusted.

“Ew, no. I mean the fighting. Father said he always supposed they must have one of those relationships where they hate each other so bad it turns backwards. Whatever that means.”

“Well, they sure don’t seem to hate each other now. Sometimes when they think we don’t hear they’re all mushy and stuff."

Cloud rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, Father is like that with people while he’s married. Once I tried to tell him it’s gross to stick his tongue in someone else’s mouth, but then he started telling me all these other horrible _nasty_ things that he does with them that I _don’t_ see, and that I am to do the same once I’m old enough to start.” He shuddered theatrically. “So I didn’t bring it up again. I hope he forgets.”

“Adults are scary sometimes.” Tom agreed.

“So are you a Parcelmouth?”

“Yeah. And so is James.”

“James Potter-Malfoy? Your brother?”

“Yeah I guess. He’s kind of a thug. Him and Regulus both. I’ve chased them out of Scorpius’ room about a hundred times when they’ve pulled some stupid prank.”

“So you don’t get along?”

“Not so much. We’re okay, we just don’t have much in common. He and Regulus stick together, I stick with Scorpius.”

“Wait…isn’t Scorpius the baby?”

“Yeah.” Tom said, feeling edgy from the separation even though he could feel warm vibes of contentment from several cars back. He guessed Harry was feeding him. Good. Harry didn’t tend to be as good with schedules as Draco was.

“You hang around a baby?” Cloud seemed confused at the prospect.

“Yes, Scorpius is like…my _life_. You’ve never held a baby, have you?”

“Well…no. I’m an only child.”

“Maybe I’ll let you feed Scorpius sometime, if you prove yourself worthy.”

“Prove myself worthy?” Cloud squawked indignantly.

Tom’s eyes narrowed.

“Yes, exactly. Infants are very fragile, but holding and feeding a baby is an experience you won’t forget.”

“You’re a bit strange, mate.”

“Yes, I suppose I am.”

“Well, if you’re aware and are alright with it, then I suppose that’s fine.”

The two grinned at each other, and knew they’d each made a true friend.


	8. Sortings and Premonitions

Lucius Malfoy forced himself to breathe deeply and relax as the crowd of Muggles jostled him from every direction. He had never felt so out of place, and it wasn’t due to his magical status…he was dressed in the same pressed slacks and crisp white oxford shirt that everyone else wore – he knew he appeared as non-magical as they come. And he was also aware, from the smooth enunciations and modulated tones of those around him that he was surrounded by fellow representatives of wealthy and powerful families.

No, Lucius Malfoy felt out of place because he was old. His magical heritage smoothed away some of his fifty-odd years from his face, but despite the breeding and manners of his fellows he knew his mannerisms were dated. Probably more so due to his own upbringing in the Wizarding World. The young people around him glowed with vigor and excitement and it all made Lucius feel very tired.

“Welcome to all of our new postgraduate students! If you will look around you will see that you are surrounded by the very best and brightest from all around the world… I hope you will all take this opportunity to connect with the future leaders of the global community!”

A statuesque woman with curly brown hair was projecting her voice with some presumably Muggle version of an amplification charm.

Lucius and the other students ignored her as they sized each other up.

“Hello, my name is Jonas Fishburne.” A messy-haired kid who reminded Lucius oddly of his son-in-law offered his hand to Lucius.

“Good morning Fishburne. I am Lucius Malfoy.” Lucius shook it firmly, giving the young man a measured smile.

“Oh, please call me Jonas! I’m here as an exchange student from America. Boston.”

“Jonas, you may call me Lucius. I’ve been to Boston on business, it’s an absolutely charming town I must say.”  
Lucius doubted he and Jonas were talking about the same part of Boston, however.

“And which college are you enrolled in?” Jonas asked.

“Merlin’s College.”

“Oh! I am too!”

Lucius looked at the younger man, surprised. This man was a wizard?

“Really? I would never have guessed!”

Jonas grinned a bit smugly.

“Yeah, I know I’m a bit young, but I finished my undergrad in Quantum Physics when I was 20 and polished off a Masters in Theoretical Quantum Mathematics two years later! I think the admissions board was a bit skeptical of me, but when I started picking apart the formulae in their prospectus they were intrigued enough to let me in.”

Lucius paused. _Was_ he a wizard? He’d read about those subjects before but they were _muggle_ disciplines, only recently starting to be integrated into the modern magical theories.

“Which course of study?” he quizzed.

Jonas scratched his head awkwardly,

“Well that’s the weird thing, from the prospectus it’s pretty clear the course is Applied Quantum Mechanics but they insist on calling it Advanced Arithmancy.

Lucius stared. The man was a muggle. And he clearly had no idea that he was enrolled in a magical school. He allowed a small smirk to play on his lips.

Jonas didn’t miss the expression.

“You know something I don’t know?”

“Oh yes, my son was involved in developing that course, actually. I think you’ll find the name is quite a bit more appropriate than you expected.” Lucius smirked.

“ _Really_ , I don’t suppose you’d care to elaborate on that?” Jonas asked, arching an eyebrow.

“I dare not, save to quote Clarke: ‘Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.’”

Jonas nodded sagely.

“Well I suppose there is that, though I wasn’t aware they had the facilities to go beyond mathematical theory here.”

Lucius smiled at the man. He didn’t know how a muggle had gotten into a magical school, his son and Granger must be playing fast-and-loose with the Statute of Secrecy, but he knew he wanted to be there when Jonas found out the truth.

“Oh, but the reverse is true as well,” he murmured with a sly grin.

“What?”

“Oh, you’ll just have to wait and see, my friend. Just you wait.”

 

 

“Good evening students! I’m pleased to welcome you all to yet another wonderful year at Hogwarts! This year we have a few changes that I’m sure many of you will be happy to take advantage of. We will be offering two new elective courses, one in Ritual Magic and one in Hybrid Magic. These are available to students in fourth year and on, with exceptions made for younger students who can pass an entrance test.”

Deputy Headmistress McGonagall paused as excited chatter sprung up amongst the students.

“Both these subjects will be taught in a workshop format by one of our two new additions to the Professorial staff here at Hogwarts, which I am _very_ pleased to finally introduce you to. Please welcome your new Professor of Complex Magics, Lord Draco Malfoy-Potter!” she announced.

The students gaped as Draco rose and gave a gracious wave to the students.

Through deft manipulation of his image, Draco Malfoy-Potter had managed to use his role as the architect of Voldemort’s defeat to catapult himself to an iconic-like status in the wizarding world that very nearly eclipsed that enjoyed (and hated) by Harry Potter himself during the war. His romantic courtship of Harry Potter and artful swindling of the power-hungry Dark Lord into willing participation in Harry and Draco’s Marriage Ritual culminating in Voldemort’s destruction had quickly made him a living legend in the wizarding world…especially to this younger generation that hadn’t grown up on tales of the Boy-Who-Lived.

His presence there in front of them was…well…there was a reason his classes would be subject to very strict prerequisites for qualifying grades in related core classes.

“Second, in the interests of inter-house relations and school unity, Hogwarts will for the first time field a united Quidditch team drawn from the four House teams – which will compete against other European schools.”

This time there was an outright explosion as the excited athletes and crazed fans (which included nearly everybody) chattered about the other Quidditch teams and argued over which members of the House teams should represent Hogwarts.

“Silence! Thank you! Now, you will all be pleased to hear that the Hogwarts team will be coached by our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor…none other than our own Quidditch legend, the youngest Seeker in centuries, Professor Harry Potter-Malfoy!”

There was dead silence as the Notice-Me-Not charm Harry and Scorpius had been under melted away as all eyes were drawn to the shaggy-headed figure at the Head Table. 

Harry gave a small, slightly embarrassed wave and quirked a crooked grin at the students. Then…there was uproar.

“Did you know? Did you already _know_?” their peers demanded of Regulus and James.

The twins just smirked and nodded, delighted at the surprise effect as everyone gabbed excitedly at each other about their parents.

“Just imagine, _both_ the Potter-Malfoy men will be living right here at Hogwarts… _together_ ,” a fourth year Hufflepuff girl was heard to sigh.

“And _sleeping_ here together!” a more worldly fifth-year added, to blushes all around.

“Do you suppose they’ll make out in the corridors?”

“Right where anyone could watch?!?”

“That must be _so_ hot!”

“ _They’d_ know! I bet _they’ve_ seen all _kinds_ of things!” a star-struck third-year pointed at where James and Regulus stood with the other first years, waiting to be sorted.

“Silence, children! You’ll all have time to talk amongst yourselves once the feast has started. But first we need to welcome our new first years to Hogwarts…let the Sorting begin! Black, Regulus Potter-Malfoy, please come up to be sorted!”

Regulus exchanged fist-bumps with his twin and then with Frankie, exchanging a smirk for Rose’s disapproving frown, and then headed up to meet the Sorting Hat.

“Hmm…Potter-Malfoy, eh? I knew those two had it in for each other from the start. So let’s have a good look at you…you’re certainly quite cunning, but you let your brother redirect your cleverness into pranks I see. Hufflepuff would be better for you than Slytherin, certainly. I see you’re a very curious lad but I can see you don’t care for books or book-learning, you want to experience things directly. Definitely Gryffindor over Ravenclaw. Now I can see you’re mostly a pleasant fellow but you’re more interested in protecting those you already care about than meeting new friends. Hmm, yes you’re loyal but to a select few, and quite fierce about those…with that lust for excitement and adventure, you’d better be a GRYFFINDOR!”

The Gryffindor table erupted with cheers as Regulus headed their way.

“Black! Welcome to Gryffindor! I’ve been hearing you and James are a really formidable pair with the Beater’s bats – are you planning to try out for the team next year?”

“Hey did Harry Potter give you his Marauders Map? I’ve heard stories…”

Regulus shrugged ambiguously at his newly-acquired well-wishers and sycophants, watching his twin across the room, waiting patiently for him to join him at the Gryffindor table.

“I bet you’re going to be really exciting to have in our house – I’ve read all about your father’s adventures _his_ first year! Do you do a lot of stuff like that? I’d totally be up for a quest if you want anybody to go with you!”

Regulus rolled his eyes. As if he’d even want someone other than James at his back during any kind of adventure. Like he’d trust any of these dorks to guard his back. They probably couldn’t even talk to snakes like his brother could.

_Silly children, useless, the lot of them…_

A few minutes later, a breathless Frankie Longbottom joined him at the Gryffindor table to somewhat more muted greetings.

“Hi Reggie.”

_How dare he…_

“Regulus.” He corrected sharply.

Frankie frowned.

“But James called you-”

“You’re not James.”

“Oh. Okay, Regulus then. If James gets into Gryffindor do you suppose the three of us will hang out all the time like your father and the Weasley’s did?”

Regulus frowned consideringly. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt for Longbottom to tag along from time to time. Longbottom probably couldn’t keep up with the twins, but he might fit in as a sort of stooge and a willing target for their pranks. 

_More agreeable than Rose, at least…_

At the same time, Rose certainly took after his godmother and would fit exactly into the role she had played. 

_But we don’t have to be another Golden Trio…_

“Maybe.” He said slowly. “We would have to get rid of Rose, though. I’ll talk to James about it.”

Frankie nodded, recognizing this was the best assurance he’d get from only the one twin.

Then, finally it was James’ turn.

Regulus felt some bit of tension in his back soften as his brother sat down and put on the hat. There was something indefinably wrong about his brother being out of arms reach – he felt as if he couldn’t quite interact properly with others without the twin-dynamic playing its role.

“Hmm…another Potter-Malfoy! I see you’ve brought your little friend Hissyfit with you as well.”

James just grinned, wriggling a bit as the hat’s brim fell down almost over his eyes.

“I’d like to be in Gryffindor, please.”

“So it seems your Daddy thinks he’s taught you how to make me do what you want, eh? Well we’ll just see about that.” The Hat mused. “Hmm, yes you do have a taste for adventure and mischief, very clever about it too…with that and your talent with snakes you could very well go into Slytherin like your father.”

“Slytherins are too stuffy, I want to have fun!” James insisted.

“Well, there is that. I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t do for you then, now would it.”

“No, I want to be with Regulus in Gryffindor!”

“Now let’s not be hasty, lad. You _could_ go to Gryffindor, but that may not be best. You and your brother are very close…it might be good to separate you for a bit so you can learn to be your own persons, don’t you think?”

“OH please don’t do _that_!” James gasped, horrified.

“Now don’t be upset, young man. Many a set of twins has gone through these halls and not too many have ended up in the same house together.”

“But my uncles Fred and George did!”

“That they did, and the both of them are still unable to live without the other. In any case, you’re not your uncles.”

“Please, I’ll do anything if you’ll put me with Regulus! Anything!” James begged piteously. “He needs me!”

“See? There’s that big Potter heart showing through! You’d do anything for Regulus, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, please, put me in Gryffindor with him?”

“Ah, but I’m not here to do what’s best for Regulus just now. What’s best for you is to be placed where your best qualities will be encouraged. And for you, that has to be HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Nooo!” 

The twins’ united voices echoed across the hall in stereo.

James, his face already showing streaks of tears, Regulus with eyes just beginning to blur as McGonagall gently but firmly pushed his brother towards the Hufflepuff table. Their eyes locked as their respective housemates’ hands took hold of their arms, making James sit and keeping Regulus from bolting toward him.

The students and teachers applauded his placement, so callous to the personal tragedy being enacted right before their eyes. 

_This is that Hat’s doing…_

The artifact responsible was quickly placed on another childish head and continued its loathsome task, unaware or uncaring of the repercussions of its cruel decision.

Regulus felt as a harsh blow the moment when his brother bowed to the inevitable, his regretful eyes slowly turning away from their mournful contact, and directing themselves at a housemate who asked him some stupid childish question. 

_How could he…just…_

As Regulus stared at his brother a moment longer, in disbelief, in betrayal…and, unable to watch him give his attention to another instead, looking finally away… their connection, their special _two-ness_ , was lost…just like that.

_Who needs him, anyways. Better not to need him anymore, ever again._

 

Tom frowned as he watched his adopted brothers suffer forced separation for the first time he had ever witnessed. 

Since joining his new family, Tom had often envied the closeness of the twins. Not because he felt left out, but because he had yet to experience that level of camaraderie with anyone. 

And he _wanted_ to, badly. 

Why had the Hat separated them? That was surely an awful thing to do to both of them, he thought. Would someone try to separate him from Scorpius one day?

He shivered and vowed to make sure no one would ever be able take Scorpius away from him, or him from Scorpius. He had a thirst for knowledge, he knew. And his new parents had cautioned him that this could transform into a thirst for power as well. Well, there it was. And he wouldn’t hold back from making himself powerful. He’d just have to trust to his motives to keep him from turning into another Dark Lord.

And then it was his turn.

“Slytherin, Thomas!”

The Hall went dead silent at his name, and Tom walked forward very carefully, aware of every eye trained harshly on him.

A brief chatter broke out in low whispers around the room until McGonagall quelled it with a look, and Tom took his place on the stool.

“How very interesting to meet you for a second time, young Tom! Not quite the same lad, though…interesting story there. I can see that this time you are aware of quite a bit more…and have far more to live for as well! But still that thirst for power…beware that, my boy. Power itself is not a bad thing but to hold it above all else…well, many have met an ugly end that way.”

“I seek power only to defend myself and Scorpius from people like you. How could you do that to Regulus and James!” Tom said accusingly.

“Ah, you’ve a strong sense of justice. I wonder if I should put you in Gryffindor this time? How ironic that would be! But no, for you I sense it must be either Ravenclaw or Slytherin.”

“I am eager to learn. And I do want power.”

“Hmm, yes you do…until a moment ago you could have easily gone to Ravenclaw, but I think now that you have felt threatened you can only be…SLYTHERIN!”

Tom shrugged, it was what he’d expected.

The Slytherin table regarded him with guarded hostility as he approached.

Tom smirked. By all accounts he was royalty to them, and they clearly did not like the fact.

“How dare you claim that name!” a fifth-year girl challenged him harshly.

“Professor McGonagall was the one who called my name out, I did not.” Tom told her coolly.

The girl huddled with some others for a moment to discuss the fact that the magical records of Hogwarts had apparently been taken in by his fraud, somehow.

Tom sat down at the table and placed his hands on the surface before him.

“For those of you who did not witness it at Kings Cross, I will allow _one_ more demonstration of my bloodclaim when we reach the Common Room. After that, I will consider any further challenges to be an insult and act accordingly.”

An older boy sneered at him.

“Are you going to _duel_ one of us, little boy?”

Tom looked at him carefully. He was well muscled and his hand was well-positioned to draw his wand at a moment’s notice.

He smirked, and then replied…in parseltongue.

_“I will do whatever is necessary.”_

They all gasped at the demonstration and quickly averted their eyes, turning themselves to resume forced casual conversations that failed to conceal their continued intense awareness of his presence.

Tom repressed a grin. Harry had counseled him and James about the wizarding world’s instinctive terror of Parselmouths. James had bragged that he wouldn’t stand for coddling a bunch of scaredy-cats, but Tom intended to _use_ that silly phobia to establish his early foothold in the dangerous world of House politics.

Moments later a freshly-sorted Cloud sat himself gracefully on the bench beside Tom amidst polite applause, and the two boys shared a small grin between them as the Welcome Feast began.

 

 

Harry frowned in worry as James was sorted into Hufflepuff. Neither twin looked happy at being separated, and no surprise. The two hadn’t been separated since their birth, the only time he could think of that they’d been separated even for a moment was when Regulus had been presented to the Black family magic as the new heir.

He shivered. Strange things had gone on in that old house from the moment he brought Draco there as his fiancé. The disturbing scene in the broom closet had only been the beginning of a series of bizarre magical events directed by an increasingly obsessive sentience, culminating in the attempted kidnapping immediately following Regulus’ birth.

Kreacher had settled down since, tolerating the rest of the family as long as he was permitted to follow Regulus around worshipfully.

“Do you suppose they’ll be alright?” Draco asked him in a low voice.

“I don’t know. The Patils got separated in our year, they were pretty close but they managed.” Harry whispered back.

“Perhaps they could be a resource. I don’t think Regulus is taking it very well, look.”

Harry saw that his husband was right. After several moments of horrified silence, James had started to interact with his new housemates. As he watched, Harry saw his son laugh with a group of boys his own age, though not as long or hard as the others.

Across the room, Regulus continued to stare at his brother, and Harry could see he was deeply hurt by James’ easy acceptance of and adaptation to the new situation. Even worse was when Regulus’ little mouth pulled itself into a bitter grimace and he turned stiffly away from his twin, not to join in the boisterous conversations around him but to apply himself mechanically to his meal.

“You’re right. I’ll ring Parvati tonight and see if she has any advice. Maybe we should have encouraged them to be more independent, growing up…”

Draco squeezed his knee comfortingly under the table.

“This _is_ their first rite of passage, Harry. It’s good that they are so close, now they have to learn their separate strengths.”

Harry let out his breath slowly.

“You’re right. This is just…harder than I thought it would be.”  
Draco squeezed him again.

“It always is. At least they won’t have all the issues we had to deal with at that age.”

“Thank Merlin for that.”

And with that, the couple turned their attention to their meals and their new co-workers, who excitedly cooed over Scorpius and asked questions about their curriculum and teaching strategies.

 

“I am sooo happy to meet all my new Hufflepuffs! I am Professor Tonks, you kids can all just call me Tonks, and I’ll be your Head of House! That means I’m sort of the parent of our little family-away-from-home here in Hufflepuff! So if any of you have any problems or just want to talk just ask and I’ll be right and ready to talk to you any time! I’ll also be teaching you guys Transfiguration but let’s let the school stuff wait until classes tomorrow! For now, let’s get to know each other! I’ll start, I’m Tonks, I have a husband Remus and a son Teddy. My best friend is Molly and my favorite thing to do is flying! Okay, now you!”

Professor Tonks got out all that in one long, fast, breathless sentence.

James smirked. He and Regulus knew Tonks, she came over all the time to visit their parents. Dad was Teddy’s godfather, after all, and Papa was Tonks’ cousin. Hufflepuff was going to be great, he’d be able to get away with murder.

“Heya Tonks!” he offered with a winning smile.

Tonks grinned back at him.

“Well, go on then James.”

“Oh right. I’m James Potter-Malfoy, I have a twin brother Regulus, we also have an adopted brother Thomas and a baby brother Scorpius. We like to fly too, and I can talk to snakes. My familiar here is Hissyfit, he’s a Runespoor. _Say hello, Hissyfit._ ”

“ _Greetings, one-legs._ ”

The other students blanched as James brandished the hissing snake, then again as he slipped into Parseltongue for the last comment.

“What about your best friend?” one of the other boys nudged him with an elbow.

James stared at him.

“I told you, my twin brother is Regulus.”

“He can’t count!” another chimed in.

James frowned.

“But Reggie’s always been my best friend.”

“Yeah but he’s your brother, you didn’t get to pick him, you just got born with him. So he’s different from a _friend_.” the other explained logically.

“Well I still choose Reggie anyways.” James huffed, turning away with annoyance.

“Now boys, don’t be getting into arguments so soon. I’m sure James will make lots of new friends here in Hufflepuff, right?” Tonks chided.

There was a general chorus of friendly agreement.

“So let’s move on to you, then.” Tonks pointed at the boy who’d been questioning James.

“I’m Eric Macmillan, I have a dorky kid brother named Aaron and my best friend is Derek, but he’s a muggle so he can’t be here. I like to play football and climb trees. And flying sounds fun too.”

 

 

“Welcome to Merlin’s College!” Hermione Granger called out from the podium. “I’d like to remember all of our students that we have a _mixed_ group here, so please mind yourselves carefully for the time-being. Our programme of study includes a great deal of highly advanced and in some cases top-secret, ah, _technology_ so there will be binding non-disclosure agreements to be signed by those who have not already bound themselves.”

There were a few titters from, Lucius guessed, the magical students in the room.

“Merlin’s College was started in order to open a new frontier in our way of thinking about how the universe works on a very basic level. Einstein started mainstream scientists down this road when he propounded his Theories of Relativity, and many other highly-respected scientists have developed those loose theories into a much more evolved understanding of reality. But those scientists merely touched upon an area of study that is very, very old and was unfortunately disavowed by the scientific community for centuries.”

Lucius felt a bit of discomfort as he realized that Granger was essentially unveiling the existence of magic to this large crowd of…well…many of them were Muggles. Although some fancy wording made it sound like anything but magic, she was pretty much spelling it out. He noticed some of the other wizards in the crowd were wincing a bit as well. He was starting to feel a bit…exposed.

“Now science has caught up to that discredited set of theories, as most of you know. We know that reality is not based on the obvious mechanisms of Newtonian physics but is subject to forces that are both subtle and powerful in their application. We named this college Merlin’s College because what you will be doing, ladies and gentlemen, is no less than what the average person would describe as pure magic! This very cutting-edge of technology has proven that there _are_ no boundaries to what we can do, it’s just a matter of manipulating the right force in the right direction and anything is possible.”

Merlin’s ball, she’d actually come out and said “magic” to a bunch of Muggles! Was the witch insane?

“With that said, I’m afraid I can give you no more details until the non-disclosures are signed. If you haven’t already done so, please join the queue here and sign the documents. These are _binding_ contracts preventing you from discussing any of your work here with anyone who isn’t similarly bound. The prefects will check off your name once you’ve signed and you’ll be clear to continue orientation, so please be quick and efficient about it. Thank you.”

Lucius turned to Jonas.

“I’ve already been bound, of course. Yourself?”

Jonas shook his head, turning to join the queue. Lucius decided to accompany him, but was distracted by a strange tingling sensation in his left arm. His left forearm.

Feeling suddenly sick with dread, Lucius quickly excused himself and strode quickly into a restroom.

He pulled up his left sleeve and there, where the Dark Mark had previously gone dormant for eleven years was an irritation of tissues in the same shape of the skull and snake. 

The whole thing tingled and itched distractingly. Certainly not the Dark Lord himself calling him, thank Merlin.

But Lucius knew in the absence of its master, the Mark would be sensitive to a new dark lord awakening in the world, a potential future master who only had to claim his mark…

Lucius emptied his stomach into the bathroom sink.

“Lucius?”

Jonas stood at the bathroom door.

“Hey are you alright, man? You kinda rushed off, I thought…oh.”

Lucius wiped his mouth and stared up at his new Muggle friend for a long moment. Something was very wrong. Something bad was happening, or about to happen. Lucius stared down at the irritated skin and shuddered. He needed counsel...and there was one person the wizarding world he knew he could trust with this.

He turned to his concerned Muggle friend.

“Jonas…do you have a pen and paper I could borrow?”


	9. Complications

The small crowd of Slytherins stared from Tom to the bloody plant growing from Ignatius Flint’s hand with a strange assortment of resentful awe and stunned disbelief. 

Tom made note of the group exhibiting stunned disbelief. There were enough witnesses to his display at Kings Cross that word would have gotten around, and it’d been a full ten seconds since Slytherin’s crest had appeared.

Slow wits made for unworthy allies and easy targets.

The resentful awe would take time to transmute to genuine respect, but he could work with it for now.

Tom looked at Cloud and found behind the pretty mask he wore the blonde’s eyes were practically beaming at him. He cast the boy a wink and turned back to the huddled upperclassmen.

“I trust there will be no further aspersions on my bloodline from within my own House?” he queried, noticing the flinches at his slight emphasis on the _my_ in that sentence.

Flint blinked as if from a daze and shook out his hand, watching a moment as the plant scattered into little bits of crimson light and droplets of blood that spattered, unnoticed, on the older boy’s stubbly chin. 

Then he stepped a little towards Tom and offered him a formal bow.

“I am Lord Ignatius of Flint, glad of your acquaintance, cousin of the Earth.”

Tom returned the bow.

“I am Lord Thomas of Slytherin, likewise pleased to meet brethren of power.” He murmured.

Flint looked marginally pleased. The exchange was an old one but still common among purebloods, an old code for wizards to recognize each other in the world of Muggles. It was among the basic mannerisms Draco had drilled into Tom and his brothers.

“I’ll see that any stragglers are informed appropriately, Lord Slytherin. I’m sure you understand this is a shock, but we _are_ well pleased to see a scion of a line long thought dead. It is…well…rest assured we will not shirk the responsibility fate has so suddenly gifted us.”

Tom raised his eyebrows.

“Responsibility?”

“Am I presumptuous to assume you had been raised outside the Slytherin traditions?”

Tom frowned.

“Well, no. Not until recently. But one of my adopted fathers was a Slytherin. Draco Malfoy-Potter.”

For the first time Flint smiled in honest delight.

“Draco Malfoy…now _there’s_ a true son of Slytherin! I’m sure none here could dream of a better guardian for Slytherin’s lost heir! How long has he been training you if I may ask?”

“Only a few months, I’m afraid. I was only recently discovered, for reasons I will not go into.”

Flint nodded, respectful though curious of the secret.

“Very well. I am sure he intends to continue your training as schedules permit. I hope you will also take advantage of your House mates for the same purpose. As the newly revealed heir of Slytherin _and_ as the newest member of such a sought-after family, you will need to be as wise as any serpent when word of your existence reaches the world.”

Tom nodded, acknowledging this as truth.

“I will be quite happy to avail myself of appropriate advice. Mind, I intend to spend what you may consider a great deal of time in the Malfoy-Potter staff quarters. I’m afraid your demands on me will have to take third place behind my newfound family and my academic study.”

“I am sure we all understand you are new to your family and must make up for much lost time. None of us in this house would begrudge that. Family before all.”

Flint made an odd ritualistic gesture with one hand that Tom didn’t recognize. He made a mental note to ask Draco about it but then realized this was just the sort of question he’d just been given leave to ask.

“May I ask the significance of that signal? I’m afraid I haven’t been taught that yet.”

Flint raised an eyebrow and repeated the gesture, three fingers separated from a raised pinkie and tapped gently twice on the breast, the opposite forearm, and the groin.

“‘For my family I dedicate all my spirit, my magic, my seed. The family before all.’ It is a promise young boys of certain families make daily to their fathers.” He explained, a fervent light in his eyes for a moment.

Tom considered it. Rather a clever custom, he thought. Repetition on a daily basis, from a young age, would make young heirs quite malleable to their parents’ will by the time they reached adolescence. Draco had explained to him that a great amount of family ritual magic was designed to prepare for and counter the wildness that stage of life brought with it.

He nodded respectfully.

“Thank you for explaining so kindly. I’ll look forward to talking with you more in the future.”

It was a polite dismissal. The odd tugging at the back of his soul was starting to feel very uncomfortable, and from practice Tom knew he’d start getting very nervous and twitchy in a few minutes if he didn’t deal with the urge.

Flint took the hint and, with another formal bow, returned to his circle of classmates.

Cloud looked at him with bright eyes.

“Shall we check out our dorm now?”

Tom shook his head slightly.

“I need to pay a visit to my fathers’ quarters. You can go on without me if you want.”

Cloud gave him a reproachful look.

“Don’t I get to meet them? And Scorpius?”

His blue eyes were bright with curiosity.

Tom considered a moment, then gave his friend a warm smile.

“Sure if you don’t mind the inquisition.”

Cloud paled.

“Inquisition? Isn’t that…”

Tom scolded himself for his inappropriate Muggle slang. In wizarding culture the Inquisition was still the stuff of genuine nightmares.

“Sorry. Muggle saying. They tend to joke about it because they don’t really remember it. I meant the parental interrogation.”

“Oh. I can handle it then.”

Tom grinned at him.

“Are you sure? Harry can be pretty intense when he goes all protective.” He teased.

Cloud just gave him a mock scowl.

“And I suppose you aren’t protective when it comes to _Scorpius_?” He screwed up his face and gave Tom a stern look before lecturing in a very high, squeaky voice. “Infants are very fragile, maybe one day I will let you hold Scorpius…if you prove yourself _worthy_.”

Tom growled at the mockery and lunged at him. Cloud nimbly dodged and Tom was forced to chase his cackling friend out of the common room and down the passageways of Hogwarts.

 

 

 

Lucius Malfoy approached the younger witch with his most purposeful stride, carefully hiding the completely inappropriate pangs of hesitance that pricked awkwardly at the edges of his psyche.

“I am a powerful wizard of an ancient pureblood line. I have held in my hands power a witch like her has no conception of, powerful in these New Magicks though she may be.” He reminded himself.

He found her deep in animated conversation with a nervous-looking fellow wearing thick glasses and waving his hands around as he talked. He tapped her firmly on the shoulder.

She turned and did a very good job of concealing the instinctive flinch as she recognized him.

“Madame Granger-Weasley, I apologize for the interruption. There has been an…anomaly.”

The witch raised an eyebrow at him in query and he gave her his most serious look. She turned to her companion.

“Roger, please excuse me, I need to deal with something urgent.”

She turned back to Lucius.

“Mr. Malfoy. What’s the problem?”

Lucius leaned in and spoke with a low voice.

“I need to use your device. To contact my son-in-law. I would like to send a…I believe the term is a fax.”

The young woman looked amused for a moment, leading him into a private alcove withdrawing the device from a small bag hanging from one shoulder.

“What could you need to contact Harry so urgently for?”

Lucius gave her a grim look, then pointedly cast his eyes at his own forearm, meeting her eyes once again. 

She paled slightly, but was all business.

“Have you composed your message?”

Lucius held out the folded note, which she took.

A few button pushes later, and the note disappeared in a puff of green flames.

“It’s been sent. He has it in his hand now.”

Lucius breathed a sigh as the low-level panic he’d had running in the background receded somewhat. Despite his somewhat rocky relationship with his son-in-law, Lucius knew one thing. Harry Potter-Malfoy was a wizard holding a magical heritage that was unprecedented since Merlin, and more importantly had the will to use that power to protect those he held dear. And Draco was the keenest advisor ever to stand behind such a throne. Whatever new darkness stirred, once warned they would not stop until all they had built was safe from it.

“Thank you, Madame Granger-Weasley.” He gave a small formal bow to her and turned to go.

“Please, call me Hermione. I’ve never stood on ceremony among friends and colleagues, let alone family.” She called out.

Lucius froze. He supposed, considering the new Malfoy-Weasley friendship his son had forged, she should be considered family. He turned towards her, an ironic smile tugging at his lips.

“Hermione, then. Please call me Lucius.”

“Would we should take a look at it? Perhaps we could find some answers right now.” she motioned towards his arm, curiousity alive in her eyes.

He considered, then shook his head.

“I…feel most confident leaving this in the hands I’ve laid it in. If they consult you or wish to examine it, that is their prerogative. But for me…no, I have well learned that I am not equipped to involve myself with such matters. I will do as they suggest, nothing more.”

Hermione stared at him, her mouth slightly agape at such a humble statement.

Lucius smiled, a gentle bitter grimace.

“I have made mistakes, you see?” He tapped his irritated forearm demonstratively. “Mistakes which expose a certain weakness of character. I once envisioned myself a kind of heroic figure, in the reality I allowed to be constructed for me in my own mind. It turns out, I was not. I was a villain all along. So…I leave this business to those whose character and ability I have the utmost faith in.”

With that, he nodded to her stunned face and swept back into the crowd in search of his new Muggle friend, anxious not to miss the man’s discovery that he was actually enrolled in a course to study magic.

 

 

 

Draco Malfoy-Potter placed his youngest son in his crib and smiled down at him as the baby cooed and waved his little arms. Scorpius Malfoy, the final heir of their three fortunes. And brought into existence without Draco having to gain a pound, to boot.

“Draco, have you seen my foe-glass? I swear I brought it over and it’s not anywhere I can see!” Harry complained from the other room.

“Well did you lose your wand as well?” Draco called back sweetly.

There was a soft hand-smacking-forehead sound and Draco rolled his eyes as he felt the little trickle escaping from their shared pool of magic as his husband performed the minor spell.

Nearly twenty-three years in the wizarding world, and his husband still forgot he could do magic sometimes.

“Don’t forget the swear jar, Harry.” He called out to his husband, and was pleased to hear the clink of a Galleon joining its brothers in the jar a moment later.

The swear jar, originally created for the boys, had lain fallow and unused for many years, because Draco’s considerable efforts at raising sophisticated young scions had resulted in sophisticated young demons far too clever to get caught using words that had been actively prohibited (or for that matter, ever heard before in living memory). 

As a result, the swear jar had been re-purposed for pet peeves. Draco had himself forfeited many a Galleon for making unnecessary work for the house elves (although everybody _knew_ they didn’t mind – the poor buggers actually tended to depression if they ever got bored), “leading on” unsuspecting women (so he liked to flirt, big deal, it’s not like he was flirting with _men_ after all), and surreptitiously shooting grooming charms at his husband’s hair when he wasn’t looking (well… _look_ at him!!!).

Draco smiled down proudly at his heir.

“I believe we’ll be seeing Thomas quite soon. If he’s made the impression in Slytherin we expect of him, he’ll have been delayed for a few minutes for some last-minute alliances with leadership figures. Now as a Malfoy, I’m sure you realize that you are also expected to make it into Slytherin, so I want you to pay close attention to your brother as a role model, and try not to learn too much from those other three ruffians. Always remember, my son, be as wise as a serpent, so the lovable fools can be the innocent doves.”

Draco looked up and around himself. Harry was apparently still gathering his props for lessons tomorrow. He bent down and whispered to the infant.

“Remember, being powerless makes you contemptible, which is disgraceful. That is why every visionary who has been armed has been victorious, and each one who was unarmed was killed. It is much more secure to be feared than loved, if you cannot be both. But to inspire fear, if you must injure someone, be sure it is severe enough that you need not fear vengeance. So either treat men generously or destroy them.”

He paused, feeling eyes on him, and looked up.

Harry peered at him from a doorway, a small frown on his face.

“Draco, why are you babbling Machiavelli at our son… _again_?”

Draco looked at his husband, chagrinned at having been caught in the act of indoctrination.

Harry looked at him for a moment, then rolled his eyes heavenward and disappeared from the doorway.

Draco leaned down, his words urgent. He knew his husband was humoring him for now, but it was only a matter of time before Harry’s innate Gryffindor-ness inspired him to be horrified at the insidious seeds of self-preservation Draco was planting in their youngest son.

“Beware of claims of objective truth. Convictions are worse enemies of truth than lies. A brief stroll through an asylum shows that faith proves nothing. Instead realize that all things are subject to different interpretations, and which interpretation prevails is a function of power, not truth. So beware, that when you declare someone an idiot, you will feel frustrated if they turn out not to be. Many fools remain faithful to causes for no other reason than that those opposing it continue to annoy.”

“ _Draco_ , could you tear yourself away from the philosophy lecture to get the door?” Harry’s exasperated voice interrupted the lesson.

Draco looked down at his son, who stared back unblinkingly. Had Nietzsche’s words found fruitful ground somewhere in there?

A knock at the door proved his husband had been monitoring that damn map Draco wasn’t allowed to use. (Something about him being too prim and proper to be allowed such an instrument of chaos…whatever that meant – a map that showed the location of every being in the castle seemed the _ideal_ tool for a prefect, if anything! Why, if Draco had had the use of such a device back in his Hogwarts days he could have single-handedly put an end to all those late-night wanderers and troublemakers that seemed to trouble the student population so.)

Draco turned from the crib and cast a quick Alohomora at the door, finding not only his adopted son there, but a fresh-faced Cloud Zabini as well, curls glowing golden in the torchlight.

The boys appeared to be slightly winded, no doubt they had run the entire way from the Slytherin dorms. Draco frowned, considering ruffled state of both boys, but decided to ignore it. Physical activity was healthy at their age, however undignified, and Draco had conceded the argument with Harry that their children should be taught how to act like adults where necessary but not forced to by habit.

“Thomas, and Zabini I believe?” Draco stepped forward offering his hand palm up, fingers spread to display no hostile magical devices.

The Zabini boy drew himself up and offered his own hand, similarly spread, placing it in Draco’s to be shaken properly.

“Cloud of Zabini.”

“Lord Draco Malfoy-Potter.” Draco smiled at him and released his hand.

“How is your father?”

“He is well. He expressed interest in reconnecting with you this very morning, Lord Malfoy-Potter.”

“Indeed? I would like that, your father was once my very closest ally in troubled times.”

“And this peace may be an interlude in war.” Cloud quoted.

“I see are familiar with French philosophy.”

“Did you think my father would let me get away without a repertoire of handy quotes to impress adults with?” Cloud smirked.

Draco returned the smirk.

“I will definitely have to look up Blaise again.”

Cloud looked past him to where Thomas had darted in and swooped up the infant Scorpius into his arms, and was now cooing at him with a completely carefree grin on his face.

“That’ll be Scorpius, I suppose.”

Draco looked at where his two sons were deep in eye-to-eye communion.

“Yeah, I’d better introduce you and make sure Thomas keeps the claws in. He’s very territorial with him.”

Thomas looked up and graced them a serene smile.

“Scorpius, this is my new friend Cloud Zabini. Cloud, this is my brother Scorpius.”

Draco smirked as Cloud’s eyebrow rose at being presented to the infant first. To his credit, the boy played along, gracefully bowing low at the waist and doffing and imaginary hat while raising a finger for Scorpius to latch on to.

He promptly pulled it to his mouth and sunk his singular tooth into it.

“Ow!” Cloud pulled his bitten finger back and examined it for breaks.

“Mind the fang, he’s just got it in and is eager to practice with it.” Thomas smirked.

“Do you need a healing spell?” Draco asked solicitously.

Cloud shook his head, staring in shock at the bloodthirsty child burbling happily at his friend.

“Perhaps you would like to hold him?” Draco suggested.

Thomas frowned at that.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, father. Cloud doesn’t have any younger siblings.”

“That’s okay, Lord Malfoy-Potter. I can just watch Thomas hold him well enough.”

Draco frowned slightly, knowing Thomas had successfully scared off his friend from trying to hold his brother. They would need to have another talk about his territorial instincts with regard to Scorpius.

“Draco! Can you come in here?” Harry called out.

Something was off in his tone.

Draco turned quickly, tossing a pleasantry over his shoulder to the boys, and was at his husband’s side in seconds.

“What is it?”

Harry gestured at the parchment in his hands. No, it was Muggle paper, but he recognized his father’s handwriting, shaky as it was.

_**“Harry. You should know that my Mark seems to be reacting to something. Only a few minutes ago, I sensed a faint tingling in the vicinity of the Mark. It very rapidly grew to an itching sensation, and when I found a private place to examine it some moments later, I found that the outline of the original Mark was visible as an irritation of the skin. I do not know what this means, it is possibly some latent magic here at Merlin’s College or something of import elsewhere in the Wizarding World. L.M.”** _

Draco read the note twice over without comment.

“Should we be concerned?” Harry asked, casting a glance towards the doorway, where the sounds of Thomas and Cloud amusing the infant with funny noises could be plainly heard.

Draco thought a moment.

“I am certain the creature that controlled those marks is completely destroyed. I do not know exactly what method Voldemort used to key the control of the marks to his own essence. Obviously he retained some connection after losing his original body, and even after creating a new body based on your blood. Clearly it was to his soul, which he stored in the Horcruxes. But…he may have given a broad definition of his soul in order to maximize his ability to assert control in diverse situations. It’s conceivable that this purified fragment inherited the Marks.”

“Is this a problem if it is true?”

Draco considered.

“I don’t know that the Marks are themselves a tainted form of magic. Clearly Voldemort twisted them to be a coercive tool. At the very least they will be a dangerous temptation.”

“You think it might have some other cause?” Harry asked cautiously.

“He is in the middle of a research school full of experimental magic. Some of that could resonate. We can certainly ask Hermione to look into anything going on that could cause this. And…we have a control to test that theory.”

Harry tipped his head to the side for a moment, then reached for the magical phone on the desk.

As he touched it, it rang.

“Hello?”

“Potter. We may have a problem.”

“Did your Mark just react to something too?”

“I take it Lucius has reported the same thing.”  
Harry sighed.

“We were just about to call you. Draco has a possible theory, we’ll need to brainstorm them all.”

“I suppose you’ll be bringing in Albus and Granger-Weasley then.”

“Of course. We’ll let you know the details.”

There was a click as Severus Snape, abrupt as always, ended the conversation.

“Well. Damn.”


	10. Reactions

Severus Snape gingerly replaced the Porta-Floo in its cradle on his desk, freezing in his withdrawal and pressing his hand back onto the device. 

It would not shake. It. Would. Not.

Severus let out the breath he’d been holding and withdrew his hand from the phone, observing it as it hovered before him.

Rock steady.

It had been nearly twelve years since his impetuous godson had stormed his way into the delicate balance he’d struck between two terrifying powers, revealed the third power in the form of a completely unaware Harry Potter waiting in the wings, and proceeded to methodically tie the tightrope of Severus’ life into knots upon knots with layers of blackmail, deceptions wrapped in half-truths, ritual magic wrapped in seduction, and ultimately, miraculously, cheated the Dark Lord out of both his Horcruxes and his life.

It had seemed a miracle, one the veteran spy had sat slack-jawed to observe, and his thankfulness had always been tempered by a kind of distrust in such a deus ex machina…left to wait for the other shoe to drop.

And wait he had, in alternating fits of glee, paranoia – outright terror. 

For twelve years. 

Because good and miraculous things did not just happen to Severus Snape. They were certainly not accidentally gifted to him as a byproduct of another’s master plan.

No, Severus knew his role in such plans. 

The pawn. 

Or at best the hiding knight. 

But always, the sacrifice. Whether to the werewolf’s bite, because the creature had a more cherished piece as a friend, or to the burden of guilt, because the prophecy could only come to pass if it’s other subject knew enough to set it in motion.

His survival, his extrication from those webs, could only come despite such plans, due to his own counter schemes. 

And here was the proof. The mark, once again, sending its tendrils of magic into his consciousness.

The itch was only the superficial symptom. The Occlumens could, within his own mind, see how the connection between the stained flesh and his magical core had reactivated. Only a week ago it had been a mere sliver of a thread, its many roots retracted, starved into withering once the Dark Lord no longer used it to siphon magic. Such a transfer had not yet resumed, but that thread was sending out tendrils, once again seeking out those connections.

And once again, Severus found himself with no option but to seek out power, make himself valuable to a slightly less objectionable Lord, in hopes that he might be protected as an asset.

Severus tossed back the glass of dragon whisky he’d poured, right before making the call.

It burned.

 

Regulus sat in the corner of the Gryffindor common room and wondered why he was there.

The reds and golds ran riot throughout the room and hurt his eyes.

His housemates were a bunch of unimaginative, brash idiots who thought a prank consisted of icing the stairs or putting a Toe-Twisting-Tenticle in somebody’s slippers while they slept.

And James wasn’t there.

James.

Regulus fought back the horrid tight feeling behind his eyes at the thought of his missing twin.

James wasn’t there, he was in Hufflepuff, making new friends, making people faint with his casual brandishing of Hissyfit and slipping easily in and out of Parseltongue, and then making them immediately forgive them with his big smile and easygoing ways. 

Without Regulus at his side.

Regulus clutched at his stomach as a knot of loss almost made him double over, his vision swimming with tears until all he could make out was a pair of muggle shoes – Nike sneakers – standing patiently in front of him.

“Whoa, them ‘Spurts got you bad, mate.”

Regulus wiped at his eyes, furious at having been caught crying, and regarded the speaker.

A little taller than him, inhumanly bright blue eyes, long blonde hair falling past the shoulders. The...was it a boy? A girl? The person regarded him kindly through a pair of sunglasses, liberally festooned with blinking and flashing LED’s.

“What?”

“The Wrackspurts. They’re all over you dude.”

“What are you talking about? What’s a-”

“Oh, Wrackspurts are these nasty little fairy creatures, mostly invisible of course, that mess with your head and make you feel all kinds of wacked out like you’re on some kind of-”

“No, no. My dad told me about them. What’s a dude?” Regulus said impatiently.

“Oh. Uh, a dude is just…a person. Like, ‘man’, except it’s not right to make assumptions about someone else’s gender identity. So I just said dude. ‘Cuz with the Spurts climbing all over you I knew I had to say something, but I don’t really know you, so I was just like, ‘dude’. You know?”

Regulus just stared.

“Yeah, anyways, I’m Lysander. Lysander Scamander. Try saying that fast, huh?”

“Um…I’m Regulus. Potter-Malfoy Black.” Regulus offered his hand hesitantly.

“Oh right, full name. Lysander Lovegood-Scamander.”  
Lysander shook his hand enthusiastically. “Hey, I’ve heard of you, our parents know each other! You have a twin too, right?”

Regulus paused, the hand still comfortably in his, and looked to either side of Lysander for another half.

“Yes…did they separate you, too?”

Lysander didn’t seem to mind that Regulus was still holding his, or her, hand – but grimaced at the question, folding to sit Indian style at Regulus’ feet as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and continued chattering in that bizarre style.

“First thing when we got here. That Sorting Hat is a real asshole, dude. Lorcan’s in Ravenclaw. Sorry I missed your Sorting, the ‘rents had us in Australia hunting down a Snorkack – between you and me I think it might be a myth, Gramps has been trying to find one since before I was born – and the Intercontinental Floo left us all in Mungos with hangovers. Always use a Portkey unless it’s local, dude.”

“You’ve been to Australia?”

“I’ve been everywhere, man. Shit. Are you a guy?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool, thought so. So yeah, Australia, Antarctica, about eight different parts of Africa – watch out for the snakes in that place, they’ll give you some crazy times but so not worth the backlash, man. Oh, and we even popped up to that Muggle moon colony, duuude the Aurors were so pissed off about that, apparently everything up there is closed circuit television and they had to do so many obliviations and bring in squib experts to hack the computers, it wasn’t pretty.”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“A guy?”

Lysander shrugged, waving a hand dismissively.

“Whatever.”

Regulus stared.

“So where’d your twin go?”

Regulus blinked, looked at Lysander’s hand still in his. He apparently wasn’t going to get an answer until they separated into boys and girls dorms. He wasn’t sure if he should feel weird about that, but either way, holding Lysanders hand in the Common Room would open up one can of worms or another. He released it, surprised at how reluctant he was to do so.

“James is in Hufflepuff.”

“Harsh, man.” Lysander didn’t take back his, or her, hand – instead it moved to rest comfortably on Regulus’ foot, picking absently at his laces as they talked. “Look, I know the score, right? People who get born alone just don’t get it. Especially that bloody Hat. It really sucks, and, like, no warning, right? Just, bam! And you’re on your own, and they all think it’s the best thing for you. Like, they genuinely believe it. No clue, man. None at all.”

“But James just…just went with it!” Regulus cried, frustrated tears burning again.

“Dude! I get you man. But you can’t fight them, the adults, the singles, they’re like everywhere and they have all the power. And they really, don’t get it.” Lysander soothed him.

“But why didn’t he even try? We’re _supposed_ to be a _team_!”

“Dude, you are. I mean, I don’t know James. But, probably he’s like you but different, right? So, you both want the same things, but maybe you have different ideas how to do it? And maybe he’s right! Not about being separate – but, look. Lorcan and I, we threw a _fit_ when they separated us. Like, hexes all around, and when they wrestled us down, we were biting and spitting and screaming. They kept us quarantined from each other for days, dude. Days. Opposite sides of the castle, said we were ‘co-dependent’ and needed time to ourselves.”

Regulus practically vibrated with fear and impotent rage.

“No! They can’t!”

Lysander shushed him, looking around a little at the attention his outburst had gotten. When their housemates returned to their conversations, he spoke in a lowered voice.

“That’s what they did to _us_. When we made too big a deal. You can’t let them know it’s that important, or they’ll try to cut it, man. They don’t understand, man. They’re born alone, they couldn’t. So dude, I’m just saying, do what James is doing. Act like you miss each other, they expect that, but don’t let them see how bad it is. You can still see each other, a lot. Like, most of our time we’re out there in the castle. And you can invite people over to your house, too. As long as you don’t get them watching you by not being normal about it.”

“I hate this place.”

“Shhh, dude, it’s not this place. It’s just a curse to be different. Nobody gets you. They just don’t.”

“You get me, Lysander.”

Lysander smiled at him, big and bright.

“Yeah. And you get me. Well, mostly. I’m different other ways too. But you get the twin thing at least, cuz you’re half, and you can get why it’s different to be different. And, dude, your Wrackspurts are almost gone!”

Regulus gave his new friend a shaky smile.

“Thanks, Lysander.”

“If I could have your attention, please!” a familiar voice boomed out from the door.

Regulus jumped up, running to his father.

“Dad!”

“Regulus!”

His housemates stood by, a little star-struck as Harry Potter-Malfoy knelt to give his son a bone-popping bear hug.

Harry pulled back from his son and noted the dried tear tracks, framed the boy’s face with his hands.

“I know it’s hard, Reggie. I’m so sorry I had to sit and watch that happen to you and Jamie” he whispered fiercely. “It’ll get better with time, I promise. And you’ll still see him all the time. Think of it as you two splitting up for one of your plans. You both get to learn things and make friends separately, and then the two of you will know twice as much and have twice the crowd between you!”

“Is Jamie-”

“Jamie’s fine. You know your Aunt Tonks is his Head of House, she’ll look after him for you.” 

Harry squeezed his shoulders. 

“You and Jamie will be okay, Reg. I swear to you, you two will be okay even in separate houses.”

“I know, Dad. Lysander explained it to me.” Regulus told him, turning to his friend.

Harry looked over Lysander.

“I’m guessing you’re one of Luna’s children?”

“Yes, Harry Potter. I’ve heard a lot about you from mother. The Wrackspurts tried to get Regulus too, but I chased them away.”

“Definitely Luna’s child.” Harry said, amused. He offered his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you…Lysander?”

“Likewise.” The child affirmed, shaking his hand, and not letting go.

Harry shifted, not sure what to do. He looked at his son, who shrugged with similar bafflement. Harry extricated his hand, letting it fall to his side.

He turned to the room, raising his voice to address them all.

“Sorry I’m so late everybody, since I’m half of the life support system for an infant, you may find me easier to locate in my quarters if I’m mysteriously missing from my office at any point.”

Some of the older students tittered politely at the joke.

“I’m your Head of House. That means I’m sort of here to help you with things you’d normally bring to your parents, if they were here. Since we don’t allow them to live here unless they’re teachers, you get me instead. Now, you older students have been here for a while, and I expect you to do your part to help the younger students, and especially the first years, get used to living and studying in the castle. Especially the prefects, but I mean everybody. Gryffindor is a family, and family sticks together and sticks up for each other. If you see one of your housemates having trouble, of any kind, you step in and try to help. Talk to a Prefect or me if you’re not sure how to do that. Yes?”

Harry pointed to a waving hand in the back.

“If we’re a family, doesn’t that mean I get a whole bunch of big brothers to pick on me?”

Some of the older students chuckled at that, though Harry caught an air of playful menace in a few that rather reminded him of the Weaseley twins.

“You older students, I know there is usually some horseplay involved with a bunch of kids of different ages thrown together into a close situation like this. I will let some degree of playful teasing pass. But, and you had better hear me, as the older student, _you_ had better _know_ where the line is when you’re doing it. Because these young ones need someone to look up to with trust and worship. Make sure you don’t turn that into hatred and fear. Make sure they know you’re on their side. Because if they don’t, no matter how you meant it, what _they_ feel is what decides whether you’re a bully. Don’t be one. If you don’t know where the line is, don’t push it. Got it?”

Harry glared at the older students.

“Yes, Professor Potter-Malfoy.” The older students said, a bit chastened.

“Oh, and you can all call me Harry, in these rooms. Out there or in the classroom I guess it has to be Professor, but in the Common Room just call me Harry. Except for you.” Harry pointed at his son with a smirk.

Regulus rolled his eyes and Harry smiled at him. Good, the kid seemed to have recovered a bit from the drama with the Sorting Hat. Luna’s kid had apparently worked whatever quirky magic she’d passed on to him. Or her. Huh.

“Great. Now it looks like you’re all getting to know one another, which is great. You older students should try to circulate and make sure the new kids know who you are. If anybody wants to talk, I’ll be in my office behind that door right there. Don’t be afraid to knock.” Harry said, pointing at his office door as he moved toward it.

“Regulus, I hope you won’t neglect to spend time with your father, brothers, and me in our quarters.”

“I will, Dad. Thanks.”

“Good. Tonight, why don’t you get to know Lysander better. She seems like a good friend. Is she a she?”

Regulus shrugged.

“Lysander’s cool. Who cares?”

Harry smiled back at his son, a little baffled by the ambiguity, but decided to go with it.

 

“Okay, so according to Schrodinger we can split the variable like so, using a is/not function right here. Now you say this Heroditus guy, who I have never heard of, built a system to actually run the function outside an accelerator, so how do we set it up now that we’ve done the math?”

Lucius grinned in anticipation.

“It has to be immersed in liquid state of course. So the components of liquid form the mathematical base, and we need a neutral vessel with no interactive components.”

“Huh, so if we use water, that’s helium or two, and oxygen or eight, which puts us in a base-six-plus-two mathematical system. Ugh, that’s going to get real complicated, real fast.”

“But it has the advantage of using unpurified elements, since any element that isn’t part of the base-six-plus-two framework won’t be reactive.”

“But the math, man, unless you’ve got a supercomputer hiding around here that’s really going to suck.”

“Well we could access the ARSE but I really have no idea how to use it.”

“The what, now?”

“Oh, nevermind. Let’s try something else instead, since they told us to stick to the periodic table. The theory should still work the same. What about hydrogen, isn’t that supposed to have a liquid form?”

“We’d have to be sure to have pure ingredients then, there won’t be any margin for error on that.”

“Oh wait, you’re right. If every element is reactive we have no neutrals and can’t find a safe vessel. Okay, what else can you work with in liquid form. Nitrogen?”

“Base seven with no addition. Okay, and then we can use an iron basin for electric current transfer. The formula is going to require californium, though.”

“We have a full kit.”

Lucius pulled out the jar clearly labeled 98:Cf and handed it to Jonas.

“Great! Okay, so reworking all the math…ugh….I guess the experiment object should be nickel.”

Lucius pulled a hunk of nickel out of the correct container.

“So first fill the reaction vessel with liquid nitrogen.”

Lucius put on the heavy gloves and poured.

“So we need a fourteenth the mass of the nickel, that amount of the fourteenth element. Funny how that works out.”

“Arithmancy patterns tend to be fractal.” Lucius said, measuring out the Californium.

“Stir it into the nitrogen, which will react and then settle. Then we need an electric current running through the mix, but first filtered through the same amount of the second element, silicon. So…yeah…run the wires like that…then into the silicon, divided evenly, yeah. Great. Okay, I’m clear you can turn on the current.”

“Now we have an active cell.”

“So. What I don’t get is how we expose it to a Gnossic waveform. That’s purely theoretical.”

“Oh, I have the device right here.”

Lucius took out his wand.

“Wow, how long were you waiting to pull that one, Mr. Wizard?” Jonas joked.

“Centuries.” Lucius replied smugly, and pointing his wand into the nitrogen, let the magic flow cleanly from his core, watching his friend’s expression.

Jonas started to smirk, then his eyes narrowed as the nitrogen began to froth and emit a slight glow.

“What-“

The chunk of nickel slowly turned over inside the mixture, and began to sink. Through the base of the aluminum pan.

“That’s impossible.”

“We just went through the mathematical proof. It is not only possible but a necessary result.” Lucius smirked.

The nickel continued to sink through the base of the suspended pan, and Jonas ducked down to watch it ooze out through the sheet of metal until it landed, with a plop, on the ceramic table, smoking slightly.

Jonas looked at the chunk of nickel.

“Is it safe to touch?”

“What did the math say?”

“Tempurature raised by…uh…fourteen degrees Celsius, the waveform would disperse when no longer in contact with the nitrogen. Oh holy Jesus.”

Jonas picked up the chunk of nickel, hefting it in his hand.

Then his eyes zeroed in on the wand in Lucius’ hand.

“What the hell is that thing?”

“It’s what all the secrecy was about. In fact, it’s been illegal to disclose to someone like you for centuries, I have no idea how Granger got authorization for this program, actually. It’s possibly the only universally enforced law in my world.” Lucius told him, holding the wand out for inspection.

“What is it?” Jonas breathed, running a finger down its length.

“The body is made of elm wood. The core is the heartstring from a dragon.”

Jonas gave him a disbelieving look.

“There is a lot that has been concealed from your scientific community. Granger and my son think it’s time to reveal ourselves, and apparently they’ve managed to persuade the right people.”

“ _My_ scientific community? Who do you mean by… _yourselves_?”

“The magical community. Wizards. Witches. Magical creatures. I’ve lived my entire life in terror of what is happening here today. Of what happens after. The fear. The jealousy. The human experiments. The stake. I hope to Merlin my son is right and your people are ready for this.”

Jonas looked at the nickel in his hands, at the several sheets of paper covered in mathematical formula.

“So…you’re telling me there are a whole population of people who are capable of projecting a Gnossic waveform? And that’s where all the mythology of magic comes from. But a Gnossic waveform only has application to a few…”

“Not just the Gnossic. That’s one of several. But yes, some humans can control the passage of several kinds of emissions from and through their body. It seems to be genetic, although it also appears randomly for some reason. And it leads to an extremely diverse set of abilities, once an individual learns to focus it. I’m not entirely convinced your math can actually explain all of it, but there are people I respect, intellectually who insist that magic is entirely a function of this ability.”

Jonas gaped, the wheels in his head visibly whirring.

“And…dragons?”

Lucius smiled, putting his wand back into his cane.

“One of many wonderful and terrifying things you’re about to learn of, my friend.”

“And this…magic. What can it do?”

“I can apparate from here to my home in the blink of an eye. I can transfigure this piece of nickel into a statue of silver. If one of your colleagues takes this revelation badly I’m sure Aurors are waiting to stun them and erase their memory. Anything you can imagine can likely be accomplished, with the right spell."

Jonas sat down heavily.

“If all of this is possible. No, I’ve seen that it’s true. Since it’s true, there is a whole new branch of theory to explore. To map out every…’spell’ and find how it works, find an application that does not require a human root, to integrate it into our understanding and our infrastructure…this will take centuries and here we are at the start of it, aren’t we? We are going to be the fathers of a new branch of scientific discovery!”

Lucius nodded.

“My son and Granger have started this, in our culture. But I gather they are here to gather the army of minds that will be needed to move this forward, and eventually, I am certain, their plan is to break this into your world. Maybe much later, after we are all long dead. But eventually, yes.”

Jonas started mechanically gathering his things, a haze in his eyes.

“Are you well, my friend? It is a lot to adjust to.” Lucius asked, a curdle of uncertain fear settling in his stomach as the man didn’t meet his eyes.

“I’m not going to burn you at stake, Lucius. Or tell anyone. But…I think I need to sleep on this. I’ll be back, and I will have questions. So many questions. But…now it is all a jumble. I need to get away and…re-order my universe.”

“I…well, this is all my life, so I will not claim to understand your upset. But…I have seen my view of the world turned upside down before. Twice. I can sympathize. I will wait, and answer whatever questions you have for me.”

Jonas smiled back at him, weakly, but genuine.

"I look forward to it. For now though, I need to have a private meltdown."

Lucius chuckled, and helped him add the last of the papers to the stack, stuffing it into the bag.

"I'll look forward to our next meeting. This is an adventure for me too, one I think I've been waiting for all my life. Thank you for…not living up to the nightmares."

Jonas gave him a peculiar look, like a sudden understanding had passed over him.

"There will be…I mean, not everybody is going to be cool about this, you know. There will be…assholes."

"There are in my community as well. I'm ashamed to say I used to follow one. I used to _be_ one. But no more, I hope. We will do this right. I trust my son, and his mixed-heritage associate. They will do this right. And we will help them, my Muggle friend."

Jonas seemed to roll the new word in his mouth for a second, but he smiled.

"I'll be proud to help, my Wizard friend."

The two friends smiled at each other, and clasped hands in farewell.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This is my first attempt writing a genderqueer character, and even more challenging, a pre-sexual genderqueer character. I felt I needed to push the envelope, since I already normalized gay marriage in the first fic and need a new crusade in the background here.**
> 
> **And when it became obvious that a child of Luna's would logically have to pop up in the middle of Regulus' funk, and as Lysander quickly became a self-possessed, worldly, and utterly blaise-about-those-silly-norms type of person…and I could't decide whether I wanted Lysander to be a boy or girl…and couldn't find it mentioned anywhere what gender Luna's children were…well, I soon realized that a Lovegood (Scamander) household would be a really rare non-traditional wizarding home that would affirm and accept their child's developing identity without squashing it into any molds…and so my foray into transgender politics grew out of the character!**
> 
>  
> 
> **I'm pretty solidly male though, and those close to me are all either male or female so I'm operating on what I've read, pretty much. A little intimidated how I'll write Lysander, who I think will become a pretty important supporting character.**
> 
>  
> 
> **So any constructive criticism and advice is much appreciated.**


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